


Serpents, Sunshine, and Sickles

by Neryx



Series: Not those kinds of values! [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Puns, Childhood Trauma, Corny, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Magic, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Dark Mark Kink (Harry Potter), Death Eater!Harry Potter - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Handsome!Voldemort, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love Triangles, M/M, Marriage, Master of Death!Harry Potter, Necromancy, Not Beta Read, POV Third Person Limited, Parseltongue, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Sane!Voldemort, Sequel, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 116,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neryx/pseuds/Neryx
Summary: [This is a sequel to my work "Tainted or Saved"! Read that first, please.]Harry thinks he has achieved everything there is. He has a loving family, his love triangle finally seems to work out, and the war is over. But even then, he has the feeling something will go wrong. After all, he is Harry Potter and fate seems to love playing games on him. The Master of Death finds out his worst nightmares do actually come true. But his family, friends, and his favorite, supernatural being stick around to help him.





	1. Hiding your true colors

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Just a word of warning: English isn't my native language, so there might be odd mistakes here and there. Not too many, but still.

 

**Chapter 1**

**Hiding your true colors**

* * *

* * *

 

For the first time in months, everything was just normal. Harry was securely wrapped in multiple layers of blankets and laid between two, warm figures. It was early January and the three of them had crashed at Barty’s quarters in Hogwarts for the time being. For all Tom seemed to care, this was their new HQ. Their home. At least for their small triangle. Barty didn’t seem to mind much, enjoying being together with them. After all, he didn’t cope all that well with loneliness and had nothing better to do, either. That was, if his alcohol poisoning had been anything to go by. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise, but, nevertheless, they kept on sleeping. Well, Tom and Barty did, anyway. The apprentice had been awake for quite some time, already. 

He happily shifted closer to his favorite brother, who was holding his waist and trapping him in his arms, spooning him. Tom meanwhile was facing his husband and made some kind of unhappy hiss upon him moving, before getting closer to Harry, as well. The latter aided him in his efforts and pulled him closer by his middle, meeting little resistance. His master - for this very reason - seldom slept in the middle of them. Barty had tried to embrace him in his sleep before, had been successful, even. But as soon as Tom awoke, he became afraid more often than not. So they had settled for this arrangement to spare him the anxiety. Not, that Harry minded. He absolutely loved being squished by the two mates of his. He wanted to do this every day from now on.

But why was he awake, then? The answer was fairly easy. He had very little need for sleep, nowadays, and he was rather worried. School would start tomorrow, which posed a ton of problems for their little _sleepover-party_. First of all, Harry couldn’t sneak out every night to share Barty’s bed. Neither could he have both of them sleep in his dorm. Ron would probably faint if he ever proposed such a thing. And the Dark Lord couldn’t stay at Hogwarts, either. He’d have to go back and work, soon. While he had been generous and had given his followers a few days off - it was Yule, after all, and he wasn’t that cruel - they’d need to go back to doing evil stuff, soon. And Harry was afraid that, if Tom wasn’t there for a while, he might become jealous of Barty again and that would ruin their progress. So, he had been up most of the night and had thought about that problem. After all, what else had he been supposed to do with his time?

In reality, there were even more pressing matters. They hadn’t told anyone of this. No one. Not even the Weasleys, when Harry had suddenly made Barty come with him, too, on Yule. Nor Severus, who was still trying to rat the two of them out to Tom. They hadn’t talked about any of this, although they had been together for two weeks now. If he could call it that. Tom and Barty weren’t really a pair, were they? Barty and Harry were, but not them. Another problem, obviously. In different times, the youngest Death Eater might have been happy to have these kinds of issues. Maybe he should have been grateful? Still, he couldn’t fathom to be.

“Love… you’re thinking too loud. I'm tired…” a grumpy mate grumbled, as he pressed his face into Harry’s neck. “Have mercy…” Tom melodramatically wailed and proceeded to pull the blankets closer to his body, apparently cold. Uselessly, Harry pulled the older man closer in an attempt to warm him and kissed his head.

“I’m sorry, master. I’m just a bit worried…” he defended himself, as he soothingly stroked over the other’s spine. 

But Tom did not listen and murmured “Be worried sometime else…” He clearly wasn’t up to being disturbed in his rest. Before Harry could even retort something, he felt his mate falling asleep again, breath steadily puffing against his neck. Nevertheless, his apprentice had other ideas and silently apparated himself away and next to the bed - a skill, he had acquired at one point. He couldn’t even tell, when. Every few days, some new ability of his seemed to pop up. At times, he got scared because of it. He was becoming stronger than his equal. That couldn’t be right, could it? Power had never seemed that scary before. His husband always made it look so easy.

Correcting the blanket on top of his mate and smiling at him grumbling something again, he walked toward the bathroom and closed the door, so he could shower in peace. Barty had developed the awful habit of following him and insisting on showering together. Most of the time, he was dirtier afterward than he had been before. Although the risk of that seemed slim today. Taking a quick shower, his mind still circled around his issues. He wondered how Tom could stay this calm and careless. Barty was always a bit more reckless - but Tom? Harry hadn’t mentioned it up until now, but as his advisor, he’d ask him today. He didn’t feel good if he started term without a plan. Washing himself, Harry suddenly noticed a dark discoloration on his side. Weirded out, he rubbed over it, but it didn’t go away at all. The dark apprentice raised an eyebrow and tried to think of something.

It didn’t look like a bruise, really. And he also didn’t think Barty had gripped him that far up, yesterday. Upon closer inspection, there were lots of very tiny, dark-red lines, which even became black at points. It almost looked like veins and covered a patch of skin, which surely was as big as the palm of his hand. It didn’t look healthy to him. Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, before summoning his wand into his hand. He tried to use a common healing spell on it, but it did nothing. Not even a more complex one seemed to do the trick, which could only mean two things. _One_ , this was nothing to worry about and he wasn’t ill, or _two_ , he was extremely ill and about to die. Again. After all, the Elder Wand had never failed him before, so this must have been something worrisome. He pressed his lips together, frowning.

Putting on boxers, he left the bathroom and stepped into the bedroom, sneaking over to the bed. Tom had shifted around in his search for warmth in the meantime, now closer to his servant than before, but not touching, yet. With concern clearly perceivable, Harry gently touched the two to wake them up “E-Er… Guys? I think something is wrong.” The two didn’t seem very eager to wake up, until he said his last word.

Upon registering something being off, Tom’s head snapped up and red eyes hurriedly eyed him, as if people would storm into the room and attack them any second now. Now, he suddenly wasn’t sleepy anymore. “Wrong? With what, love?” Crouch Jr also turned around lazily and eyed his younger lover in concern. But he was always a bit slower in the mornings, so he seemed a bit more confused than Tom, even. 

Harry wordlessly crawled on top of the bed again, before pointing to his weird bruise and stating “This, I think. I saw it, while I was showering. I tried to heal it, too, but nothing happened. Maybe it’s nothing, but I never saw something like that…” Immediately, he had multiple hands on him, investigating. He tried not to giggle since he was quite ticklish. “Came out of nowhere, too. And I haven’t really been sick since I… died.” He hadn’t even had a cold or headache. And it had been more than two months since his death. Also, as the Master of Death, he wasn’t entirely human, really. At least that was his own, educated guess on why he had become so strong. He had not yet dared to ask Death, however, to what extent he had changed. Perhaps he did not want to know, anyway.

Guilty, Barty proposed “Maybe I was too rough again…?” He always was a bit too hard on him - not, that he minded - which ended in bruises more often than not. Barty almost always regretted it afterward, however, and expertly cared for him, coddling his smaller brother.

But the Dark Lord swatted the servant's hand away and touched the darkened skin himself, brows furrowed. He concluded “That isn’t a bruise, moron. I don’t think Harry would have been unable to distinguish that from whatever this is.” Sheepishly, Barty sat up more and helplessly watched on, as Harry was being looked at. “Hm… I have no idea, love. It doesn’t emit any magic or anything similar. I’m not a medi-wizard, though. Maybe you should go to the Hospital Wing, if only to confirm it’s nothing.” He didn’t seem extremely concerned but was certainly displeased at not knowing, what this was. They all knew he couldn’t die, still, there were concerns.

Joking, the Master of Death teased because of that  “Well, if I die, I’ll come back, anyway.”

His husband and his lover weren’t very pleased with that notion, though, and the Dark Lord scolded him right away “Just because you were able to do it once, doesn’t mean we have to test if you can do it again, love. And seeing you die wasn’t… pleasant.”

“It fucking sucked, brother,” Barty provided a little less eloquently and went on “Just go. Pomfrey will know, what that is.”

With a grunt, Harry pouted “I hate going to the infirmary.” He really did. Ever since his traumatic experience with Lockhart, he had despised it. “She’ll only scold me for something again. She always does.”

Barty touched his neck and pulled him into a kiss, only to hum “Do you want me to come with and hold your hand, hm?” The smaller Death Eater tried to suppress a moan upon a hand sneaking behind him and gripping his butt. That never ended well. “Or we can just stay and go… hm, _later_.” 

“If you don’t let him go, I’ll kill you, runt,” was growled at the other servant, however, who then withdrew quickly. Tom didn’t enjoy uncertainties and wanted closure.

“My Lord, you never say nice things to me,” he pouted as Harry had. “I thought you loved me!” He wailed dramatically and pretended to show his tick. Harry giggled, as his other mate sighed in mental anguish. He loved the two of them and their small fights. They were mostly funny to watch.

Rolling his eyes, Tom reminded “Well, I don’t love you. And you seldom do anything, which is deserving of praise. It’s your fault I’m not nice to you.” It somehow came out harsher than he had intended it to be, Harry saw. On a meeker note, Riddle corrected himself reluctantly “No- You do things, which are good. I just need more time, you know that. And you know, why.” When Barty’s look grew even darker at that, hurt evident, Tom awkwardly pointed out “Wait- I didn’t mean _that,_ explicitly! I was talking more about the… other thing. Although you did make things worse-”

“I-I…” Barty made, trying to say something, but not knowing, how. 

Upon the awkwardness increasing, Harry rescued the situation and explained “Barty, he’s not blaming you! It’s more about, what happened when he was small. Haven’t you ever noticed he doesn’t let himself be touched by anyone? Considering that, we’ve already come a long way… I mean, you can touch him. A bit.” Why did they always end up talking about this? Clearly, it didn’t heighten the mood. And the topic was constantly prone to misunderstandings since his husband despised directly referring to his experiences. When the weirdness didn’t vanish, Harry decided to flee like a coward “Er… I’ll go to Pomfrey.”

They nodded almost obediently, as he started dressing in Gryffindor robes. As he finished, Tom threatened “Don’t forget to eat. If you don’t, I'll force-feed you.” His mate was always very mindful of how much he ate.

Harry nodded and disapparated - the energy it cost him, was very little nowadays - and reappeared in the infirmary. A woman screeched upon him appearing out of nowhere, so he chirped “Sorry, Madam Pomfrey. I er… need to have something checked by you.” He charmingly smiled at the medi-witch, who was holding a hand over her heart in shock.

Flustered, she huffed “Mister Potter! If you ever want me to treat you again, you will cease apparating in here! This is a place of rest and healing-” She started going on a tirade while ushering him to sit on one of the beds, although he had not even said, what was wrong. “So, what is it, boy?” She finally asked him, crossing her arms, as she looked him up and down.

The dark apprentice pulled up his shirt to reveal his weird stain, saying “This. It appeared this morning and I have no clue, what it is. Master didn’t, either. I couldn’t even heal it.”

She got closer and squinted her eyes at the patch of skin on his right side, touching it with her index finger. “This almost looks like... sepsis! Are you experiencing any pain? Have you felt confused as of lately?” She asked him, but he shook his head firmly. She then touched his forehead “And you have no fever, either… You’re too cold, actually.” She seemed unhappy at not having her hypothesis supported, which Harry found to be a bit too morbid, even for himself. She next took out her wand to cast an analyzing spell on him, which had him shiver in displeasure. He didn’t like light wizards casting things on him. It was uncomfortable. “Heart rate is… extraordinary slow and your breathing, too. That doesn’t really fit entirely…”

“It’s been like that for a while,” he informed her and shrugged. He didn’t think that was related to his new issue. 

“And you didn’t think to come here?” She shook her head, disappointed.

Weakly smiling, he told her “No, because it never bothered me. It has been like this ever since I was hit by another Killing Curse.” And died, he kind of left out. Although, shouldn’t he tell her? “Madam, i-if I tell you something, will you keep it secret?”

Rolling her eyes, she pointed out “Law forces me to, Mister Potter. The only person I could disclose information to would be your legal guardians or your husband.” But she also smiled slightly, maybe to lighten him up. While she was strict, she was also caring.

Reluctantly, the Master of Death admitted “Madam, I know it seems unlikely, but er… I didn’t really survive the Killing Curse. I did die. But Death - yes, the _Death_ \- brought me back to life. So… I don’t think I’m completely human anymore if that helps.” She eyed him in confusion.

“Maybe you are confused, after all, young man!”

“No! Listen, I really did die. I mean- Look, you don’t have to believe me. But, hypothetically, would that change anything?” He looked at her pleadingly. He didn’t want to summon Death right now to make her believe. He usually tried to keep _using_ him to a bare minimum.

“Hm…” she hummed, biting her upper lip. “This seems ridiculous to me, but still... “ She regarded the patch again and then cast a different spell on him, which he did not recognize. It felt even more uncomfortable. “Yes, maybe... “

In concern, he asked “M-Madam?” She wouldn’t tell him something horrible, would she? Male wizards couldn’t become pregnant, right? 

Darkly, she told him “I’m not entirely sure, what this is. I’m not an expert in that field. So, please take my diagnosis with a grain of salt.” Now, he was really getting scared. “Mister Potter, you seem to be… undead. Well, not entirely. My diagnostic scan tells me, you’re both alive and undead. I-It doesn’t make sense, but this is what it tells me. And… well, that patch you have… I’ve only ever seen that in my training, when I worked with the dead,” she seemed scared as well.

Horrified, he told her “That can’t be! I’m- I’m a Necromancer! If I were dead, I’d have noticed.” He had spent half a year in that field already, had worked on countless bodies. He wasn’t one of them! “I mean… What kind of undead would even be able to do magic? M-Maybe vampires, but I’m not infected! This can’t be…” When he had thought of being something more than human, he hadn’t thought of this! This was  _less_ than human. Inferior.

Her lips a thin line, she helplessly held her hands up “Potter, this is the only thing, I can tell you. As I said, I’m not specialized in the care of creatures or have studied dark magic! And you’re not… completely undead, somehow. I can only advise you to go to an expert with this or wait on other developments. But your slow heartbeat and the coldness also support my idea. That’s something, vampires often experience for example.” When he still seemed devastated, she offered “Did you perhaps work on something dark and a spell backfired? Or you were cursed? Maybe that could offer an explanation.”

But he shook his head “No, I told you. I did die… I- I have to think about this. Sorry.” How could this have happened?

“It’s alright, young man. But, please, if something else happens, come back to me right away,” she sighed and he nodded in understanding, as he corrected his clothing and went outside the Hospital Wing, heeding her plea to not apparate again. He didn’t want to upset her if she was going to help him. Maybe. His head was spinning - what did this mean? Would this change anything? Now he wished, he had been more grateful for his other problems. He decided to walk the brief distance, needing some time to think of a way to break the news to his lovers. Although Tom had already seen, presumably. If he did, he was currently politely waiting for him to come back and tell them himself.

He had to wait for one of the stairs to come to him and he suddenly regretted his decision to walk, as his least favorite brother and Headmaster stood behind him suddenly. Having heard his steps and having felt the tell-tale sensation of a sibling nearby, the apprentice turned around, only to be faced by a shit-eating smile. “Why, Potter, not spending your free days with our Lord?” He hated him and vice versa.

But Harry did not know if he should tell him about Tom literally sleeping in Barty’s bed right now or not. They still had to discuss that little fact. So he hummed “Severus, if our Lord minded - which he doesn’t - do you think I’d be here? We’re never apart, anyway. Seeing, we share our minds freely.”

Harry wished the stairs would move a bit faster. Snape meanwhile crossed his arms, pointing out “We already settled you were an outstanding Occlumense. Wouldn’t it be easy for you to shut him out of your mind without him knowing?” Snape must have used his Headmaster-powers to find him again. Granting him the title had been a mistake.

Rolling his eyes, Harry snorted “It might be, but why should I? I have nothing to hide, brother.” Calling him brother seemed so very wrong. He was nothing like the others.

“Oh? So you didn’t intend to go to the third floor just now?” Again, he smiled and Harry would have normally leashed out at it if he didn’t have bigger issues right now. 

“And if I was - what are you going to do about it, hm?” He wasn’t entirely unaffected, either, though, and snapped a little. Would the Headmaster give him detention?

Shrugging, the older male proposed “How about we speak about this at the next gathering? I’ll have to make a report on the activities here, Potter. And what else would be worth noting, but your obvious infidelity?” He seemed pretty sure of himself.

Meanwhile, the Necromancer almost felt sorry for him, as the stairs nearly reached them. “Do you have a death-wish, brother?” This would be going against their Unbreakable Vow. Severus had promised not to harm him in any way.

“Hmpf,” Snape made, raising an eyebrow, “Who says, I’m intending to harm you, Potter? I am fulfilling my vow. If he only finds out in a few years, the chances of him not punishing you severely are slim. If we stop this early, he might forgive you, still. I am helping you, insolent brat.”

He didn’t know, whether he should laugh or cry. Was he serious? “You care for me, Sev? Well… then do your thing, if you think it’ll help. But you’ll only embarrass yourself. Seeing, there is nothing going on between me and Barty. I’m sure everyone will get a good laugh out of this,” he taunted him and decided, he had had enough of this and waiting for the stupid stair. He disapparated, even if that was sending the wrong signal.

“S-Sunshine, what did she say?” Was immediately thrown at him by Barty, who sat on the edge of his bed, already dressed in a simple shirt and vest - did he even own robes? Tom meanwhile still lazily laid on the bed, not having managed to put on his robes yet. He somehow still looked tired, despite them already having slept in.

Fiddling with the hem of his sleeves, the Master of Death admitted “Nothing good, but she also wasn’t 100% sure if her diagnosis was right…” His husband sat up at that, albeit still hugging the blanket for warmth. Harry felt soothing energy coming through his Mark, which he was grateful for. “She er… said I was half-undead, half-alive, basically. But that can’t be, right? I-I mean - the undead can’t do magic. Not our kind of magic, anyway. And master, you’d have noticed, surely…”

But his primary mate shook his head, while Barty was still trying to process the information. “While I’m fairly adept at a few areas of Necromancy and know a lot of the theory, I’m not an expert. It simply never proved… useful. And how would I have noticed? Yes, you’ve become a little cold and your heart is slower than normal… but I simply played it off as something, which happened to a Master of Death. You have a lot of new skills, after all.” Harry wasn’t satisfied with that answer, he wanted closure. He sat down on the bed, facing his two lovers. But he had no clue, what to say to any of this. He didn’t want to be undead - that was clear. Seeing his undecidedness, Tom proposed through gritted teeth “I suppose you could always call your servant and ask…. He ought to know.” His Lord wasn’t a very big fan of the being.

“Yes, I could…” he hummed but told them “But we should focus on the other stuff, first. I don’t think this is extremely pressing. The other developments have been going on for months, too. Maybe we should just wait and see, what happens before we jump to conclusions.” He wanted to think about this in quiet, first. And no, he was  _not_ procrastinating. 

Charmingly, Tom cooed “And you don’t want me to be terrorized by him, how touching. And yes, maybe we should… talk.” He seemingly was happy enough to not have Death show up right now, reaching out a hand and taking Harry’s. “Clearly, we have a problem - multiple, actually.”

Confused and his tick becoming apparent, Barty called “We have?” Since he had no way of looking into their minds, he had perhaps misinterpreted. As Harry looked at him, he could hear ‘ _Oh Merlin- Have I messed up again? What if they tell me they don’t want to stay here anymore… Shit. Sunshine’s looking at me all sympathetic, too._ ’

“Yes, we have, Bartemius. Our arrangement poses quite the challenge and poor Harry has been worrying about it all on his own. We should change that,” their master pointed out, before going on “Clearly, I will have to go back soon. As nice as this is, I can’t be staying here all the time. Then there is also the question, how we will tell the family of this.”

Barty seemed positively surprised at that and intensely regarded the Dark Lord, inquiring “Y-You… uh want to tell them? But why? You weren’t up to that uh… _last time_.” He grimaced at the memory of their failed relationship, but the older male stayed perfectly passive. Outward.

“Some are already suspecting and I’ve heard rumors of you two cheating on me. I’m not even a student here and still, I heard! We cannot keep this under wraps. The real questions is… how much we will tell them.”

There, Harry fulfilled his role as right hand and told them his idea “Well, Sev wants to tell everyone about me cheating on the next meeting. Maybe we could use that as a chance to tell them. A-At least that I and Barty are allowed to er… be together.” He stumbled over his words. He didn’t really know, what to call his relationship to Barty. He had always settled for boyfriends. But he didn’t know if he should say that aloud in front of his husband. A feeling of amusement hit him.

Riddle nodded at that, locks bobbing along. “Yes, that’s the bare minimum we should tell them. I don’t think I will disclose anything about me and you-” he looked at Barty with an unreadable expression on his face “-yet. I don’t have to have them question, why I don’t let you touch me. Although rumors will be inevitable if we all stay together in one place.” Only for Harry, he whined “ ** _God, this is a mess. Why is this so fucking hard?_** ”

Ignoring Barty’s anxious look at the use of Parsel, Harry hummed “ ** _You know you can say that in English, right? Why are you even bothering with keeping up appearances?_** ” He didn’t understand, why Tom was remaining in his public persona more often than not, when it was only the three of them.

“ _ **I don’t know! This isn’t… easy for me. He isn’t my equal, he’s betrayed me before, I- need more time, love,**_ ” red eyes regarded him in sorrow, clearly unhappy with his own inability to trust anyone, whose name wasn’t Harry James Potter.

Meekly, Crouch Jr asked them “Could you please speak English? Like… that’s so unfair.” Harry did not need to read his mind to know, he was worried. He always thought they were talking about something negative when using Parsel. 

Pretending to be put off guard, Tom apologized “Oh, ah- I didn’t even notice. You see, slipping into Parseltongue is rather easy.” Barty seemed to believe him and grunted at that, so Tom added “But even if we make this public, you two should behave while being here. Don’t ruin our image.”

When Harry obediently agreed, Barty chuckled deeply “What image, my Lord?” But he soon had to regret it, when he hissed in pain and held his left arm, pouting. “Ouch- fine. I will try to be a ‘responisble adult’ and role-model for our Death Eaters to come.” It didn’t sound all that honest, though, and he pleaded “I am going to, I promise- Stop hurting me!” He defended himself, becoming flustered.

Giggling, Tom prophecized “You won’t, anyway.” That transported the older Death Eater into a state of shock, where he smiled and tried not to say anything, which would get him punished further. The Dark Lord simply yawned and ignored it. Harry didn’t like, how he had dark circles beneath his eyes. They all had gone to bed at the same time and Barty wasn’t tired. So, really, he shouldn’t be that tired. Having heard his concerns, Tom sighed “Love, stop worrying so much about other people. Your issue is probably way worse than my exhaustion.”

“But why are you tired?” The Master of Death crossed his arms and Barty seemed perplexed. He wasn’t always very perceptive like that.

Dramatically, his husband declared “Because I’m old, love!” But he then smiled and went on a bit more serious “Serpent, I’m 71… I am allowed to be exhausted once in a while.” He stretched out on top of the bed more, which reminded Harry of a cat. He wondered whether that would be Tom's animagus-form if he had one.

Barty flirtatiously commented “For 71, you’re really, _really_ good-looking… Hm, I hope I can stay that young-looking! Wanna show me your secret?” He licked along his lips, which had Harry shake his head in amusement.

But Tom didn’t take the bait and growled “Make a Horcrux, die, and have someone help you with a rebirth ritual. It’s as easy as that, Bartemius. Also, powerful wizards often do become this old. Dumbledore was over 100 years old and could surely have lived 60 more years, hadn’t we… disposed of him.” Teasing him even more, he hissed “But seeing your potential… ah, maybe you’ll be 70. Although… you’re always reckless, so you’ll probably die in 5 to 10 years, anyway.”

“Hey- I won’t die that soon! And I am strong,” Crouch Jr seemed to disagree with his master’s statement a lot.

“Ah, don’t deny objective facts. Also, if you die, Harry will resurrect you, either way,” Tom played his objection down, before reminding “Now, let’s eat something. If I’m not mistaken, the first students will be coming back soon and I don’t have to run into them.”

* * *

After a few hours, they had somehow managed to get out of bed, dress, and have breakfast. That always cost them quite some time, but today, it had been even worse. They all seemed to dread to have to stop their vacation. Looking at a clock on one of the desks in Barty’s room, the Dark Lord grunted “I should go now; I still have to do some research today.” He didn’t seem entirely eager to do so and Harry felt the same about having his other half leave him for a few days, at least. He’d surely come by once in a while like he always did.

His younger husband walked over to him, hugging his waist and purring “I’ll miss you,” as he tightened his grip on him. Barty meanwhile stood nearby, an insecure feeling coming through their weaker link.

“At least you’re not _completely_ alone like me, love,” he pointed out and pressed their lips together, no tongue or teeth present. Just gentle, soft lips pressing together and claiming his. “And it’s not like we ever stay apart longer than a week. It’ll be fine,” he was assured then, before warm lips descended upon Harry’s again. He was let go afterward, but a set of hands touched his face, as Tom ordered “Do have an eye on your injury, though.”

Dutifully, his mate nodded and promised “I will ask Death about this if it gets worse, master.” The apprentice stepped back and expectantly regarded Crouch Jr, who was still stiffly standing beside them. Tom didn’t fare much better without his husband to help him out.

The youngest of them was trying to suppress his laughter upon hearing Barty think ‘ _Can I… Can I hug him? Is that too much? Oh_ Merlin _, this is weird. Do I just…? Shit, this wasn’t so hard before!_ ’

Seeing them being socially inept, the Legilimense took it upon himself to invade his boyfriend’s mind deeper, saying ‘ _Just do it, brother. Worst that can happen is that he gets scared._ ’

‘ _S-Sunshine? What are you doing in my head- Wait, have you been listening in all the time!?_ ’ A tongue started wildly swishing around, as Barty stared at Harry, before staring at Tom. ‘ _He’ll crucio me!_ ’ He whined inside his mind, but, nevertheless, inched closer to a Dark Lord, who tensed up quite a bit upon him doing so. ‘ _Wish I were younger and stuff- then he’d not be scared of me! Please bury me next to my mom if he offs me, sunshine,’_ he told him in an act of courage and Harry was fairly certain, Tom was secretly listening in, one way or another. Nervously, Barty came even closer, before carefully touching Tom’s waist.

A bit annoyed, Riddle matter-of-factly told him “I’m not going to spontaneously combust, Bartemius. You can just- do it. I’m not going to be transformed into a sobbing mess, because you hug me.” But his husband was fairly sure, he was saying those words to comfort himself, also. He seemed to regret ever having said anything when two arms wrapped around his middle and pressed him close. Harry felt some discomfort radiate off him, and Tom grimaced, as he forced himself to touch Barty, as well.

While Harry was trying to keep it together at the totally adorable sight, the Hufflepuff admitted “I’ll miss you, my Lord. D-Don’t run into any danger, okay?” He seemed more timid than usual.

The dark apprentice saw Tom’s hand grip at the back of his servant’s shirt upon his words, and he saw the faintest glimpse of a memory before Tom forced it down again. “You, neither, Barty…” he told him, Harry feeling that every word was carefully selected and thought through. He didn’t like that. He wanted his husband to be more natural, although he supposed that would take some more time. While conflicted feelings came from Tom, Crouch suddenly emitted pure happiness at the use of his nickname. Had that been Tom’s intention? And if it had been, what for? Even after two years or so, Harry didn’t get his equal all the time. The latter made a disapproving sound deep in his throat suddenly, as his cheek was kissed. Even if Harry could feel their magic slightly spasm around them at the action, the Dark Lord _gently_ untangled himself from the other’s grip and took a step back. With a mildly forced smile, he disapparated and left them alone.

“I hugged him!” Crouch balled his fist in a victorious manner, prior fear forgotten. Harry found that skill to be amazing.

“You’re such a Hufflepuff, I hope you know that,” Harry shook his head, but he quickly had to squeak, as he was forced into a hug himself.   
Smirking, his favorite told him “Oh, I know. You like it, though!” Their noses brushed against each other, and his lover devilishly hummed “Hm… and now I have my little brother all to myself…”

Despite liking the tone of that, the young apprentice reminded him of his promise “We have an image to keep up, Professor.”

“Oh? Then you should be very careful to not end up in detention with me, all alone, away from prying eyes, hm…” his older brother ghosted over his lips, making him shiver. “Or else your Professor might get tempted to bend you over his table,” lips crushed his roughly and he had to mewl in response, liking that idea. If he kept talking like that, he’d insult Professor Crouch in front of class simply to have it come true. But his boyfriend seemed to be even more eager, pushing him back into his office desk in his room, forcing his legs apart with one of his own.

Harry’s hair was pulled at, making his head involuntarily arch up and reveal his neck. “B-Brother…” he breathlessly moaned, as his neck was bitten into, abused. Harry sometimes wondered, where his two lovers took their libido from. He was younger than them and not as insatiable! Barty was already starting to pull at his red and gold tie, trying to get it off and give him some more, pale flesh to suck hickeys into, when they suddenly heard a firm knock on the door. Said door swung open shortly after and revealed Professor McGonagall, who looked to be pretty flustered at their doings.

“Professor Crouch, Potter! This- This is unacceptable behavior!” Her mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish, witnessing something like this for the second time.

But his favorite sibling stayed relaxed and swiftly did the other’s tie again, pointing out “Minerva, if you didn’t want to see this, you shouldn’t have come in here! Also, this is completely fine. Just some… brotherly bonding, hm?” He didn’t seem really fazed. People, who weren’t Tom, were seldom able to intimidate him. Before the head of Gryffindor House could retort anything and comment further on Harry’s flustered state, Barty cut her off “This is how we do it in our family, right, little brother?” Absent-mindedly, the younger teen nodded and smiled, when Barty straightened out his hair a bit for him. “So… since we settled that, what do you need? I’m sure you didn’t show up here in an attempt of controlling me…?”

Warily regarding the older mage grooming his student more or less, she dryly answered “...No, I visited, because you seem to have forgotten your duty.”

“...My duty?” Professor Crouch cocked his head, quite distracted with his lover, still.

Raising a brow, she berated him “You were - are - supposed to be at the train station to help the students come here safely and orderly, my dear colleague.”

The Death Eater paled a bit, before breathing out an “Oh…” Casting a glance out of his window, he next went to his wardrobe and pulled out brown, warm-looking robes and put them on. “Yeah… I did not forget, I promise! I just… lost track of time! I was just telling dear Harry, how I was dreading to go there!” He then started walking around his room in search of his wand. Harry questioned, how he had survived that long like this. Maybe the Dark Lord had been right in his assumption, after all.

“Of course, Professor Crouch,” McGonagall sarcastically commented, watching on, as Barty finally found his weapon beneath his bed. How had it gotten there?

“I’ll uh… go then. Brother, stay safe!” He supportingly grabbed his left arm and pressed into his Dark Mark once, before letting go and vanishing as Tom had.

His Head of House looked less than amused and the Gryffindor stared at the floor, expecting to be scolded. So much for keeping up an image, he supposed. But the old woman did not berate him and gently questioned “I do hope this is indeed not normal in your ‘family’, Mister Potter. Does he force this on you?” She then came closer toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. He softly smiled upon that.

Reddening, he sighed “No, this isn’t normal, Professor. And he doesn’t force me to do anything; he can’t, actually. My rank is far higher than his.” Great, now he’d have people worrying again, whether he was being sexually abused by the Dark Side. When she wanted to ask something else, he added “And yes, my husband allows this, before you ask. If he didn’t, Crouch Jr would have been dead a long time ago. He can read my mind, after all.”

She contemplated his words for a moment before she concluded “If that is indeed true, I’d still advice you to refrain from… pursuing a relationship with your Professor, Potter. Especially him. He is dangerous but hides it well.” She let go of him again while looking around the room and scrunching up her nose. It  _was_ quite messy, he supposed. Not even his master had been able to change that, as of now.

Grinning and eyes twinkling, he replied “Don’t I hide it well, too, Professor?” It was ridiculous to think any of the Death Eaters were harmless. They all had some kind of issue. Some were bad at keeping it under wraps - Bella, for example - some were better.

But she shook her head “You don’t have anything to hide, you know that, dear.”

“If you think that’s true, I must be doing well,” he charmingly told her. He was glad his status as Master of Death hadn’t been unveiled by many, yet. He sometimes became paranoid, thinking they were about to find out. “Anyway, did you need anything else?” He wondered since she was still standing in Barty’s quarters and all. He had become better at reading people.

“Yes, I had a… request. I wanted to ask if you were interested in starting a club. Students have been asking about the Dueling Club for years since Lockhart left Hogwarts. And since I heard you were quite successful as Professor Crouch’s unofficial assistant, I thought you might be interested. You don’t have to, of course.” Even when she said that, she emitted an aura, which demanded him to agree. Harry briefly wondered, why she was only asking that now. Although he supposed no one would have joined the Club in the beginning. After all, the students had only slowly become accustomed to him.

Reluctantly, he had to ask, though,” Er… why me? Professor Crouch himself could probably do it, too. He’s not all that busy, honestly.” Why him? Normally, students seldom founded clubs. Even the Quidditch team was supervised by teachers. It was a great responsibility to lead one.

Dryly, she answered, “I can’t do anything against him teaching students, but I don’t have to encourage him to do it more often, Mister Potter.” Now, he became suspicious, whether there had been any train-duty, at all. Had she tricked Barty into leaving him alone, so they could talk? That wasn’t very Gryffindor-like, was it?

“I would like to have the Dueling Club return, but… Professor, I need someone to demonstrate on. I don’t feel comfortable with demonstrations involving students. I am quite powerful; I don’t want to hurt them. So, I’ll only do it if Barty- er, Professor Crouch can help out,” he started bargaining, which had her draw in a heavy breath.

“I do suppose that would be alright, Potter. As long as you are the one teaching them and not him,” she nodded slowly, at which he asked, why she was against Barty so much. “Don’t misunderstand me, but I don’t want him to… encourage the pupils to join the Dark Side. With you, I’m certain you’ll keep politics out of this. I don’t know, what he tells them in his classes. But Potter, I know, why You-Know-Who is so adamant on bringing Hogwarts under his control. If someone desires to be the leader of a society, they always go after the children. They always try to teach them their ‘ _values_ ’, so they grow up with the new system and embrace it. The adults are lost causes to them, anyway. Which is why your husband isn’t Minister just yet. He’ll wait for the next generation, Potter,” she gloomily told him and her eyes grew sorrowful at that. “Don’t let him teach them something, which is undesirable. Please, Potter,” McGonagall pleaded next and gripped his shoulder once, before letting go. They had had this conversation before.

But he beamed at and comforted her “Professor, he won’t teach them anything regretful. He’s… a good man, deep down in his heart.” He simply hid that flaw well. “And I’ll be sure to stop him if he does something bad. Not, that he would. I’m sure you’ll come to like him one day, too.” On a meeker note, he also admitted “Even Dumbledore said he had hopes. He didn’t hate my mate.” Dumbledore had called the two of them ‘his boys’. His heart broke at the thought of it. He missed the old fool. And  _Cedric_...

"Thank you, Harry," she thanked him for agreeing to found the club, not promising him anything in return, yet.

' _You shouldn't, Professor.'_


	2. Star-shaped stickers for good behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry helps out Ron financially but has to deal with his own problems, too. Mainly, his family accusing him of having betrayed his husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! This chapter didn't take as long as expected. I think it was a good idea to make the chapters <10.000 words long. They're still long enough to comfortably read and have some plot happen.

**Chapter 2**

**Star-shaped stickers for good behavior**

* * *

* * *

With a sigh, the lonely Master of Death sat on a red, comfy couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. He was overreacting, he knew that, but he was feeling lovesick. He had spent weeks without Tom at times and had not felt like this! But in those two weeks, where he had spent every minute with his two partners, he had grown used to not being alone. ‘ _This is ridiculous. Barty’s here and it’s been what- four days? The next meeting is bound to be soon, as well. Why is this so hard, suddenly?’_ He somehow got, now, why Ron always called him a girl. He heard someone descending the stairs - it was early morning and close to breakfast - and he braced himself for the day to come. Hopefully, it would distract him from his aching heart.

He felt the magical aura of his ginger friend approaching, but he also recognized Ron by the way, he walked. It always sounded quite clumsy. Before he could even attempt to turn around and face him, the other called “Hey, mate! Merlin… how can you be up this early all the time, huh?”

“Magic,” was his ironic answer, at which the other shook his head and he stood up. The Death Eater walked over to his friend, who was looking a bit disheveled. Harry grinned at him expectantly, which had the other groan.

Rolling his eyes, the other boy whined “Mate, really?” But, nevertheless, he opened up and gave him a quick embrace like Harry had silently demanded.This was their new morning ritual. “I think you’re trying to turn me dark or something.”

“That’s not how it works, Ron,” he pointed out, pressing closer, and added “Being dark is not infectious. Otherwise, you’d surely have become a fabulous, dark wizard, already. You know, with me being so powerful and all.”

“Are we still talking about being dark?” Ronald cocked his head in an innocent manner before his stomach decided to interrupt them with a loud growl. “Ugh, I’m starving. Let’s go grab something to eat. Did you see ‘Mione?” They walked out of the circular room and outside, descending the stairs, as did many other students. Ron seemed a bit nervous.

“No, haven’t seen her, yet. I’m sure she’s still up in the dorm,” he informed him, having kept a keen eye on who had left the tower. He was a spy, in the end. With a sigh, he tried to evoke some pity in his best friend “I don’t want to go to Charms... “ While he did like Professor Flitwick well enough, his class was boring at times. Especially for an apprentice, who had already learned most of the spells, he had to offer.

“At least it’s not Divination, I guess…” Ron simply told him, as they reached the Great Hall. “I mean, Charms is pretty easy and it’s handy, I think. And Flitwick lets us chat. That’s something!” He seemed awfully positive on a school day, despite his nervousness.

Questioning that, Harry murmured “What is wrong with you? Why are you so happy?” He had no right to be, when he himself was feeling lonely and hurt.

Ronald quickly looked around the hall, before whispering to him “It’ll be our one-year-anniversary soon and I have the perfect gift for ‘Mione. Well- I thought of one, at least. I haven’t got it yet, actually. Do you want to know, what it is?” As they sat down at one of the tables, Harry, of course, nodded. “A ring! Isn’t that nice?”

Furrowing his brows, Harry reminded “Er, Ron… You know Muggles see rings as marriage proposals, right? She might misunderstand.” He tapped his own ring, which he had been allowed to keep by Tom.

“Oh…” he pouted then and looked at the Gaunts’ ring. “So… that would be kind of weird…”

“Yes, Ron, It would,” he patted his arm, before saying “Why don’t you get her another necklace or a book? “

But Weasley shook his head, as he prepared himself some toast “No… that’s kinda boring and she has _all_ the books, already. Also… necklaces are expensive. I could have given her a ring, Ginny uh… bought for herself. She doesn’t want it anymore.”  He suddenly seemed a bit embarrassed and became silent.

Feeling bad for his friend, the Potters' heir offered “I could lend you some money if you wanted to... “

“No!” His friend declined quickly, however, “I-I don’t want you to spend your money on me, mate. It’s okay, I’ll… maybe mom will knit her something. It’s okay!” Still, he seemed devastated and his cheeks took on a reddish hue.

Pressing his lips together, the Death Eater tried again “Ron, just let me give you a few Galleons. Don’t see it as a gift, see it as an investment!” He touched his pureblood friend’s left arm as if to comfort him like a brother. When he did not seem convinced, Harry added “Look, I want you and ‘Mione to stay together, so it _is_ an investment, you see? And… you can just pay it back, once you work and earn money. It’s okay! It’s a loan, more or less.”

Ron was reluctantly looking at him, expecting to be ridiculed, he could see. “B-But working will take a few more years and- You need your money for yourself!”

Not wanting to brag, he sheepishly admitted “Ron, I don’t have to worry about money. Even if I had almost none, it wouldn’t matter. I’d still share it with you. Don’t worry about it. We can go to Diagon Alley on the weekend - we’ll simply sneak out. I’ll go to Gringotts and then we choose something together. Doesn’t that sound good?” Slowly, his friend’s resistance was dying down “We can make an Unbreakable Vow if you want.” He grinned mischievously, which earned him a laugh.

“I think I’ll pass on that,” he politely declined his offer of a magical contract, but added “And yeah, let’s go this weekend. Harry… thank you.”

“It’s alright. If I see you and Hermione being happy, that’s all I need,” he dorkily told him.

“You’re a girl, Harry,” was thrown at him again, before they ate. Soon, Hermione and a few more girls joined them, at which Harry had to suppress a grin. He was excited about all of this. The Death Eater loved being together with his friends and helping them since he then wouldn’t need to worry about his own issues. The patch was still there.

Nevertheless, he ignored that for now and decided to focus on the good aspects of his life. Hermione had sat down beside Ron and weirdly eyed them in suspicion “Guys… what’s going on? Harry, why are you smiling like that?” She questioned their behavior, before stating “Boys, I hope you aren’t planning on pranking anyone.” She shook her head, making her hair fall into her face, which she then had to push back behind her ear again.

Seeing Ron was still a bit nervous and would presumably mess things up, Harry employed his Death Eater skills to mask his true feelings, deceiving her “No, of course not. We were just talking about Charms.” With a grunt, she acknowledged that answer and started to chat with Ginny, while having breakfast. Whispering, the Master of Death told his best friend “Can’t believe that worked.” She usually was harder to trick than that.

“Me, neither,” he helplessly breathed out, before suddenly startling. Someone stood behind them and grinned.

Barty put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, cooing lovingly “Up to no good, brother dearest, hm? I hope you were having a good day up ‘til now.” Harry tried his hardest not to lean back into his touch and demand more affection. Despite their unfortunate run-in with McGonagall, they actually were trying to keep their new relationship under wraps. It was better that way, they thought. Even though Harry felt certain they’d mess up at one point. He wanted to give Tom more time, though, before this reached the public.

At his question, however, the younger Death Eater cocked his head backward and smiled up at his lover, saying “My day’s been fairly good.” Invading his mind, he admitted ‘ _I missed you tonight, though.’_

The other smiled back at him, but a little too weak. “Hm, at least something. I think I have to ruin that now, brother,” Barty told him in a regrettable tone, before letting go of him. As Harry turned around to face him in concern, he went on. “A little _bird_ told me something went wrong. A sibling’s dead.” Multiple heads snapped around to look at them.

Breath stocking in his throat, Harry suddenly jumped up and grabbed at his favorite’s robes. “W-Who? And why?” Hopefully, it wasn’t someone he was too close with.

Neutrally, his own second-in-command informed him “ Gibbon. Nobody knows, who did it. They found him in his home, dead. Must have been there for a while.”

“Does- Does master know?” He uselessly questioned. He probably did, didn’t he? He had never witnessed one of their own being killed. When Barty shrugged, he whispered “...Why didn’t he tell me then if he does? And why- why are you telling me? Should I… help Gibbon out?” He was the Master of Death after all. Although he did condemn raising the dead like _that_. Creating Inferi and reviving humans were two, entirely different things. He’d always do it for Tom or Barty, but Gibbon? As his master had said, he couldn’t save everyone…

Crouch Jr remained pretty calm for having a family member die, but he also had been in the family longer than him. Maybe he was used to it. So he declined “I’m telling you because our Lord is not in England. And so… I kind of don’t have anyone to report to, but you, _master_. Uh… Do you plan on taking action?” _Right_ , Harry was supposed to take over Tom’s place if he wasn’t there for whatever reason.

‘ _Tom, help.’_

Sounding a little slow, his husband answered him through their shared bond ‘ _Just do, what I would do. Send someone to investigate further. Someone intelligent, please.’_

‘ _And how would I go about that? I’m in school, master,’_ he reminded him since his mate seemed a bit sleepy again. Maybe he had forgotten?

After a brief silence, where he feared his mate had fallen asleep, the other advised ‘ _Call in a Death Eater meeting, using Bartemius’ Mark. Don’t worry about hurrying. Gibbon’s been dead for a while, anyway, apparently.’_ Harry concluded his mate had not known about it, really. After all, he was simply repeating Barty’s words.

Returning his attention to a patiently waiting Barty, he told him “I’ll call in a meeting tonight… I er, _guess_.”

His boyfriend nodded along and sympathetically touched his left arm. “I’ll help you out, baby brother,” he smirked and mocked him, but he appreciated it nevertheless. Harry doubted he’d be able to do this without his own second-in-command. Tom would still be under Imperius if he didn’t have Crouch.

“Thanks, but I thought I was your master?” He pointed out and added “If I’m master, you ought to call me daddy…” He was head of the family, after all; if only temporary.

Sheepishly, his Professor whispered “Did our Lord tell you about that?” He apparently didn’t want every student to hear, although that was hard. Everyone was staring at them, again. “Fuck, maybe I do have daddy-issues… Not for _you_ , though,” he clarified and his tick showed briefly. Looking into his eyes he read him ‘ _Only for Tom and not anymore, anyway.’_ But Barty’s eyes suddenly narrowed and he started pouting, as he thought ‘ _Get out of my head. This is Barty-zone, not nosy-spy-brother-zone!’_

“Sorry, brother,” he sweetly apologized and dreadfully let go of his mate, before sitting down. “I love my family, but why do they have to die at such inconvenient times?” He whined again, earning him confused stares, despite everyone having listened in. “I do care about them, you know? Dying is nothing bad. And I am going to investigate this, but… Couldn’t he have died sometime else? Some time, my husband’s in the country?”

Ginny ignored his whine however and instead asked in interest “Do you always take the lead like that, then? I’d never have guessed…” Was that an insult?

A bit huffily, he explained “Yes, I do. I have a superior rank to the others, you know? Well, you should know, since you wanted to join.” He teased her a bit, at which she turned red.

“Yeah, sorry about that again. I wasn’t… in my right mind,” Weasley sighed and stared into her glass of pumpkin juice, trying to read it like in Divination.

But her brother turned toward Harry and mouthed “ _Puberty_ ,” in his direction. Ginny hit him.

* * *

“I’m scared,” the youngest Death Eater with the highest rank nervously told no one in particular, as he stood in their conference room. “I don’t want to do this… C-Can’t you do it?” He begged his older lover, who proceeded to embrace him, resting his head on his shoulder. Harry wanted him to take the lead and protect him. 

However, Barty had to decline “I can’t. I’m not even in the Inner Circle, brother. They barely listen to me and think me incompetent at best. Don’t be scared of this, though. They respect you.” The Master of Death buried his face in his Professor’s chest, not wanting to, still. Warm hands caressed his lower back.

“No… they’ll accept you more. You have experience- I have nothing!”

“Sunshine, I will only get through to them if I terrorize them. My family’s name is worthless and our Lord made it pretty clear, he disliked me in front of everyone. And you on the other hand… you’re his bonded mate, the Potters are direct descendants of Gryffindor, and you are powerful! What would they even do, hm? You’re just going to ask them for insight on Gibbon before you appoint someone to look into it deeper. This isn’t a full meeting. And they’ll understand. You know not all of them are assholes.” Harry made a defeated sound at that, which prompted the other to softly kiss his forehead. “And why don’t you come with me later, hm? We’ll just tell everyone the meeting was super long and I’ll cuddle with you. Doesn’t that sound nice, brother?” That _did_ sound nice.

“F-Fine… But you sit next to me and you also help me out!” He bargained again and reluctantly loosened his death-grip on the other.

“I’ll always help you out, little brother. I can’t stand you getting hurt, you know that,” his favorite gently smiled at him and let himself be ushered toward the head of the table. The apprentice sat down on his master’s throne-like chair, while Barty sat on Harry’s next to him.

“Hopefully, they won’t take this the wrong way. G-Give me your arm,” he swallowed and his fellow servant pulled up his sleeve on command, before offering it to him.

Shrugging, he was told “And if they do, who cares? Next meeting will clear that up, anyway, when our Lord’s back. Uh… can you even call them, though?” Normally, only the Dark Mark’s master was able to manipulate it. And, despite everything, Harry wasn't a second master to it.

The Parselmouth meekly nodded - Tom had given him that kind of limited power a while ago, despite him having declined. The former Savior despised being the leader of anything. “ **_Family-Gathering_ **,” he breathed against his sibling’s tattoo, at which the snake readily started to move around. Before the first people came, he smirked and placed a kiss on his favorite’s Mark.

“Hm… you are just like him,” his boyfriend remarked at that, which had him cock his head in question. But he couldn’t ask what he had meant by that - although he had his assumptions - as the first Death Eaters started to apparate toward them. All of them eyed them in confusion, but sat down at their places, nevertheless. Especially Snape and Lucius seemed offended at the situation, snarling. This would be fun.

Malfoy had always been suspicious of him, for whatever reason and today, he also made that fact widely known. “Potter, what is the meaning of this?” His eyes narrowed, even as he slowly sat down and flicked his blond, long hair backward. "Where is the Dark Lord?" Multiple siblings seemed interested in that little fact, also.

The Master of Death gave his best to at least sound like a Dark Lord, but he did not know if he achieved his goal or not. “This is an emergency meeting, Lucius. Sadly, without our Lord since he is currently not in England and has other matters to deal with. We’ll make do, however.” Beneath the table, Barty put a hand on his thigh and soothingly patted him. Looking at an empty seat in the room, he explained “As some might already know, Gibbon is dead. He must have been for a while, but we only found him now. It must have happened over Yule.” A few of them paled, while others remained passive. Gibbon had not been a vital part of their family, but, nevertheless, it still affected them. After a brief pause, Harry admitted “We have no idea, who did it, but we will find out. For that to work, we’ll need someone to investigate.” When they did not take the bait, he insecurely asked “Anyone… willing?” The hand on his thigh tightened - apparently, that had been wrong.

So, when nobody eagerly raised their arm, Barty coughed out “Uh… master, if I _may_?” Harry gave him permission to speak, which felt weird. “Yaxley, you have your hands on the Minister. You should definitely go and look if the Ministry had a hand in this. They always have logs on who does what,” he betrayed his fellow sibling, who didn’t seem all that adamant to have more work. “But… someone has to look into economy. Master, didn’t you say someone tried to kill you, too? Maybe it’s the same guy or group, at least. That would be worth investigating.”

Harry reddened at that, admitting “O-Oh, yes. Of course! Our Lord said it was some kind of lobbyist. Lots of them sent me presents, but one sent me a cursed one. I… already killed him, though.” He had totally forgotten about that. How could he? The older siblings were regarding him in disbelief.

Upon that, Crouch Jr proposed “Lucius, you might be able to find out something, won’t you? You can get some people to help you, of course. You, too, Yaxley. After all, our Lord will want some news, once he comes back.” Harry was glad, he had his lover. He had the feeling this would not have ended well. Sneaking a hand below the table, as well, he gripped his hand and intertwined their fingers. Some of their siblings gazed at them knowingly and not in a friendly kind of way.

Slowly, the people spoken to nodded and then quickly picked a few others to aid them. Meanwhile, everyone else also started chatting heatedly. If Tom were here, they'd be screaming for their rudeness. At the same time, the dark apprentice observed in anger that Severus was intently gazing at Barty. Interrupting the whispering among his siblings, Harry snarled “Severus, brother, it is unacceptable to try and use Legilimency on one of us. Stop.” But he knew he wasn’t as intimidating as the others. Greyback would have surely described him as a scared puppy lashing out. Nevertheless, the banter died down and everyone looked at the shunned sibling of theirs. “It is of no concern to you, what he thinks or not. You’re in no position to do this.”

But his Headmaster had other ideas, stating “It _is_. After all, you two playing ‘Dark Lord’ and slovenly telling us he’s out of the country is, obviously, a bit suspicious. We haven’t seen him in a month, soon. Even his snake is gone.” Was Snape seriously proposing, they had killed Tom? The consort had to stifle his laughter.

Ludicrous, he questioned “You think we killed him? That’s pretty insulting to us and him. And pretty daring for someone, who only lives, because of his mercy. But, since you’re so concerned for his well-being… My husband and I spent Yule together with my _other_ family - his in-laws, so to say. It was very lovely, despite someone trying to murder me. Ah, and his birthday was also pretty entertaining, thank you very much. He’ll surely be delighted to tell you about that, once he returns.”

“And what proof do you have for your claims?” Nevertheless, the dark-haired male didn’t believe him and, to Harry’s horror, some of his siblings seemed equally as suspicious. They even nodded along at Snape’s words! Had they perhaps planned something out behind their backs?

“Because I know you spent at least two or three weeks at Hogwarts together with Crouch. That _includes_ our Lord’s birthday.” Harry had forgotten about the Headmasters' neigh supernatural abilities.

Rolling his eyes, the accused teacher snorted “Have you been spying on us? How would you prove that?” Barty knew his retort had been flawed, however, his tongue confirming it. The air was dangerous around them, many auras interacting and fighting with each other.

“I am the Headmaster and therefore know, where my staff and students are, Crouch!” Snape hissed again and had apparently decided to show everyone his findings now. “You are betraying us - him!” People gasped in shock, as Snape jumped up and pointed his wand at them. Even if he was thinking this was _helping_ Harry, attacking him would probably kill him. So the Master of Death stayed unimpressed and leaned back in his seat. At least he tried to.

As neutrally as possible, Harry asked “Please, calm yourself down. If I have to call for my mate to come here and clear things up, I can’t promise him staying composed.” He didn’t want Tom to kill half of his family. But his warning had been too late, apparently, when someone apparated into the room and Severus paled. The apprentice had no idea, whether he should feel happy or horrified now.

“I’m alive,” Riddle nonchalantly called out, holding his arms up as if he were a muggle-wizard and showing them some kind of trick. “Severus, sit down, you’re being ridiculous,” he hissed at that and the man did as told, slowly sinking down and expecting a Killing Curse to come his way. Tom proceeded to walk over to his husband and leaned against his heavy chair, sighing “Can’t I leave you alone for what- three weeks? Your concern is truly heart-warming, but redundant. I think Harry and Bartemius have both proven they are loyal to the cause - unlike you.”

Stammering in fear, Severus whimpered “M-My Lord, I don’t understand…”

“Of course, you don’t,“ their master pointed out. He started scolding everyone “You never seem to listen to me, after all. I explicitly told you Harry is to be my right hand and can be trusted. Still, you question his authority over you.” Their brothers and sisters started to make displeased noises or scrunched up their faces in pain, as their Dark Marks started to burn. Not the two, sitting at the end of the table, however.“You can call yourself lucky I possess neither the desire nor time to discipline each and every one of you. I have more important matters to attend to than to tell a bunch of incompetent adults something, I have told them before.” He seemed tired again.

“But, my Lord! Potter and Crouch were staying at Hogwarts together; they were sighted by multiple people, including me! They’ve been cheating on you and they didn’t listen-”

The Dark Lord visibly became annoyed and Harry could feel him being exhausted through their bond, also. “I know that. Don’t tell me things, I already know, spy. After all, I was there, too-”

“What-”

“-The whole time,” he directed at Severus and managed to produce a convincing smile, which only served to make a few peoples’ bloods run cold. On a final remark, he informed them “And before any of you start making up even wilder conspiracies: Yes, my husband is engaging in some… questionable activities with Bartemius. No, I do not care.  Or rather: I encourage it. And, for the future, keep your grubby hands out of my personal life or you’re going to regret it soon enough. I certainly take no pleasure in gossip, but I am able to play this game, as well. Don’t think I’m below unveiling, who is committing adultery with whom.” His ruby eyes fell on Lucius, who sank down in his seat a bit as if to hide below the table. Still surprisingly composed, Harry’s mate went on “Now, for the love of Merlin, leave me be and pretend to be adults instead of gossiping school-girls. If I get no reports on who killed Gibbon by the end of next week, you may join him and pay him company.” While uncertain eyes traveled between Barty, Harry, and Tom, the latter leaned down toward his mate and placed a kiss to his temple. “Sorry to have interrupted your meeting, love,” he warmly chuckled.

But his apprentice played it down “I’m glad you’re here, master.” That earned him a real, but brief, kiss. He tried chasing after his husband, but the latter smirked.

“I have to go, I’m afraid. Although I believe, Barty has made you an offer, so that shouldn’t be too bad, hm?” As Harry blushed, Riddle decided to make an example and touched Crouch Jr’s shoulder, despite himself not entirely enjoying it, demanding “Keep him safe. And yourself, too, of course.”

A giddy feeling reached Harry through his weakest bond, as Barty replied “Of course, my Lord!” Having sufficiently brought everyone into a state of shock, their Lord disapparated and left them alone. Upon everyone staring into nothingness, contemplating, what had happened just then, Harry’s lover declared “You’ve heard him! So, if I were you, I’d get busy.” To Harry alone, he whispered, “Let’s go home," and took his hand. The younger one smiled at him and warned him, before disapparating, too, and reappearing in Barty’s room. “Can’t believe he did that! Sometimes, I think he likes torturing us all,” his Professor shook his head in amusement, immediately starting to undress. It was rather late, in the end.

“He does,” Harry admitted and did the same, eager to cash in on his sibling’s promise. He hadn’t done this in four or five days! He felt like a starving animal. He just wanted to be coddled and held by the other. 

“And the look on Sevie’s face! Sunshine, somehow the meetings became far more interesting with you around…” his mate laughed, as he unbuttoned his shirt and then threw it on a chair.

Harry hungrily eyed the other, but he wanted to discuss something. Shielding his mind, he asked “Did you notice master looking tired again?” While Tom had told him not to worry, he did. He was his husband, after all. It was his job to worry about his irresponsible mate.

Darkly, the other nodded “Yeah, he even had circles under his eyes. When did that start anyway? Did he say anything to you?” Apparently, Barty was just as worried as him. That in itself made Harry feel delighted. 

The apprentice wandlessly flicked his wrist, fluffing up the bedsheets and pillows on the bed, before climbing on top of it. “No, he didn’t, besides the ‘I’m old’ stuff. It must have started sometime around Yule, maybe earlier. I’m... worried. He’s usually so tidy and everything; he’d never run around without a glamour if he looked tired. And it’s not like he sleeps less than us. But I can’t feel anything being off with his aura, either, it’s perfectly fine. This is weird. Has he- has he ever been like that before?” He had no explanation whatsoever for that behavior. But forcing his way into his mate’s mind was no option, either. He’d notice.

Pulling off his trouser, Crouch declined “No, never. A-At least not, when I was young and with him. And nothing changed since Yule!” When he pulled out a t-shirt from his dresser to sleep in, however, he stopped dead in his tracks and meekly asked “Well, one thing did… I’m here now, I guess. Do you think I uh…?”

“No, I don’t think you make him exhausted or anything. After all, he’s tired now, too, and doesn’t spend time with you,” the apprentice comforted the other mage, not liking his sorry look.

“We’ll have to observe him more closely. Maybe you can use Legilimency on him? Or we’ll get him drunk or something,” his professor unhappily proposed, before shivering at the cold of his room. Casting a glance at Harry on his bed, he took out another of his t-shirts and threw it at him. “Just looking at you makes me feel cold,” he justified his actions, before blowing out the candles with his wand and climbing into his bed, too.

“I’m not cold, though. I could sleep in snow and I wouldn’t freeze… Might have something to do with being a bit undead,” he put on the shirt regardless, however. “Before you ask, yes, the bruise is still there. I will talk to Death… eventually.” Everything smelled of Barty and it only got better, once he was covered by the blankets. He didn't want to leave this very bed ever again.

Beneath the blanket, Barty pulled his mate closer to himself, holding his smaller form to comfort and warm him. “It’s okay, sunshine. Do it when you feel ready. You’ve done so well today…” He started to praise him, helping him to think of happier matters. The young Death Eater was kissed again and his back was caressed by the other, which had him shift closer to his source of happiness. “I bet he’s proud, too. You’re such a perfect, little brother…”

“You’re perfect, too,” Harry giggled, feeling drowsy. “I love you.”

The other’s grin widened, as he cooed “Hm, I love you more. I can’t wait ‘til summer…”

“Why’s that?” Harry didn’t know, what he meant.

“You’ll turn 17!” He pointed out, which had Harry question, what was so special about that in his mind. But Barty also added “And in the summer, I’ll take you to my family’s manor. Our Lord can come, too, of course. I hope he does. We’ll have a nice and long vacation! And we can do everything we want… Probably nicer than this cave.”

Enjoying that idea, he answered “I think I’d like that. And he, too.” His Mark started humming happily.

“It’s a nice manor, too. Almost as fancy as Malfoy’s! Just a bit dusty, maybe. Hm… then I can show you my pretty tree and all my family, too. Mother would have liked you…” he suddenly felt some pain through their bond, but Barty quickly lightened up again “Maybe you could… visit her, when you’re in Purgatory again?”

He had never thought about visiting the dead before. “Er… I don’t know if I can. Probably? But if I can, I will!” Maybe he could visit his own parents? And what about Dumbledore? Cedric? “I have to kill myself sometime soon.” He felt excited.

Stuttering, his mate tightened his grip on him “N-No! Not like that- Is there no other way to get there?” How could he be so petrified at the mention of death as a murderer?

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Death. Soon,” the Master of Death sheepishly admitted. He still knew so very little about his new title. He had never felt the need to investigate further. After all, he hadn't wished for this. He was glad to be alive - more or less - but everything else? He didn't want to be the Master of Death. He didn't want to be more powerful than his equal! 

“Good, because I can’t… _feel_ that again,” his lover choked out and took a deep breath in, his magic curling around him tightly in a protective manner. Without a response, the younger one got impossibly closer, not wanting to upset him further. "I'll protect you.."

* * *

 

“And this is really like… cool with you?” Ronald shuffled around on his feet, not looking at him. They were still in their dorm, making themselves ready to apparate to Diagon Alley. Secretly, of course. Ron wasn't allowed to leave the school like that.

“Yes, Ron! Just pay me back in a few years, it’s fine. Your family has helped me so much - this is the least I can do for you,” he encouraged his friend, as he put on a set of black robes. Ron wasn’t wearing his school uniform either - too suspicious - but old, rugged looking ones, which were too big. The Weasleys had always taken him in, no matter what. “I’m more worried about someone negatively reacting to me. I am a Death Eater, after all.” Him being attacked was a real danger. “But master said it was alright. I have to show myself in public at one point, anyway. So, yeah, it’s _cool_.”

“Thanks, mate,” his best friend smirked at that and, for the first time, initiated a hug himself. The Death Eater gladly returned it, making a happy sound. Ronald's magic might have been unpleasant, but his hugs weren't. 

Teasing, Harry cooed “Will you be my boyfriend now?”

“Ew, no,” the other vehemently declined, but kept on embracing him. “I’m not even your type, you said!” He played along, still.

“Yeah, well, but you’re a pureblood. And your dad works in the Ministry, also, we’re distant cousins - let’s _marry_ ,” he dramatically proposed to his friend. “And, mh… you did become a bit buff and my taste widened a bit, so… I’m sure ‘Mione won’t mind sharing.” He touched the other’s chest, which earned him a horrified smile.

“She would, though.”

“She doesn’t have to know, my _love_ ,” he whined, before gasping “We can run away together!” He clung to his friend's neck, pretending to want to kiss him.

Right at that moment, Seamus entered the room, stared at them weirdly and held his hands up “Whelp- I saw nothing !” He then walked backward and the door closed again. Harry felt  _almost_ sorry.

Ronald moaned at that “Great, now he thinks I’m a poofter!”

“That can only improve your reputation,” Harry teased him, at which he was pinched and started to shriek. After a little fight, they decided it was time to go. Harry warned his friend of impending apparition - he didn’t want to hurt him, after all. He teleported them right in front of Gringotts to minimize exposure for now. He pulled his slightly disoriented friend behind him into the bank and up to one of the desks. Wizards were already staring at them, some left in apprehension. Nevertheless, the goblin they walked toward did not seem to care, as he acknowledged them with a nod. The apprentice told him “Good morning, I’m here to withdraw money from my vault.” He gave him the key and expected the being to nod and walk them to it immediately - time was very valuable to goblins, after all.

But it did not and instead informed him “The Potter vault was closed. This key can’t be used, I’m afraid.”

Blinking repeatedly, Harry called “What do you mean _closed_?! By whom?” The Ministry? But since when did they close Death Eater vaults? Gringotts was independent of it - even Bella, who had been in Azkaban, had kept her vault. “And where is my money now?” That was the bigger question. He was by no means materialistic, but he needed a few Galleons to survive. Behind him, Ron emitted an aura of worry.

The creature grinned a toothy smile, saying “By your husband, Mister Potter. Since you aren’t of age, yet, he is your legal guardian. And since he is also your master and you’re his apprentice, he has got full control over your finances, anyway.”

“He- He’d never steal my vault’s contents from me! This has to be a mistake-”

“Mister Potter, I wasn’t finished, yet,” the goblin informed him, annoyance in his voice. As Harry was defiantly staring up at him - this had to be a mistake - the small man told him “Mister Riddle took it upon himself to join the Gaunt and Potter vaults almost a year ago. I suppose it must have been shortly after your bonding took place. Even though he could have done otherwise, he gave you full control over the vault, too. Please wait here, I’ll get your new key.” The tiny man walked past them, and Harry felt reasonably shocked.

Ronald meanwhile said “I take it you didn’t know about that? Harry, that’s... messed up.”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even know he was considered my guardian! Or the other thing…” He mindlessly told his friend, while simultaneously scolding his mate ‘ _Tom! I- Why didn’t you tell me?’_

Quickly, his mate answered ‘ _Didn’t think it necessary, love. Also, I did it to secure your money. I did not want to find out how much influence Dumbledore had on Gringotts, little serpent. Are you… angry?’_ His husband radiated a feeling akin to a small, vulnerable, and hurt puppy.

Not wanting to upset him, since he could feel his honesty, he declined ‘ _No, not really. I just wish you would tell me about stuff from time to time… On your own and not, because I find out about them on accident.’_ It happened too often. Tom had seldom unveiled something willingly. Even his confession of having Horcruxes had been a bit forced, in the end.

‘ _I’m… trying,’_ the other told him and Harry felt genuine heartbreak coming through the bond, suddenly, making him panic.

‘ _And I love you for trying!’_ He tried to comfort his mate - why was he sad? Within a second, the feeling vanished. That hardly made it better. Was Tom hiding something from him again?

‘ _Need more time,’_ was the only explanation he got, before his husband said ‘ _As always, worry a bit more about yourself, love. I’ll try to come by soon.’_

Unsatisfied, Harry was motioned to follow by a small creature and did as requested. He pulled Ron after himself again. He didn’t like this, not at all. But forcing Tom barely gained them anything. Handling him was difficult, frustrating, even. But, since Harry loved him, it was all worth it. It wasn’t his husband’s fault that he behaved like that.

The new vault seemed to be significantly further down below the surface since the travel took a few more minutes. Meanwhile, the goblin informed him “Multiple deposits have been made into the vault by different gentlemen. Since November, 15.000 Galleons have been added in total. The people were-”

“-Were they lobbyists?” Harry interrupted him and was confirmed in his assumption. “Then I don’t care, who it was.” Ron seemed rather confused. But his husband had told him he should not listen to or care for what these people wanted.

“Very well, Mister Potter,” the being seemed relieved, even. They soon reached a fancy door to a vault - of course, snakes were on it - which was promptly opened. Harry’s breath stocked, as he saw the amount of shiny, gold coins in there. It must have been four times as much, as he had had in his own vault.

“Bloody hell,” Ron fittingly described the situations and Harry felt a little bad for him. The Potter vault would have been bad enough, but this? He felt as if he could have bought Hogwarts with all of this money, maybe the Ministry, too. Stepping in his vault, he gathered some coins for Ron. It felt like a dream to him. Or maybe a nightmare, he wasn’t sure. Even then, he made his movements quick and stepped outside the vault again, the door falling shut behind him.

“Let’s go, “ he breathed and touched Ron’s shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t react negatively now. But he seemingly did not for now, as they made their way back. They didn’t talk much, either, the silence rather suffocating for once. Even to Harry, who normally liked it. Once they reached the main hall of Gringotts, however, and they were close to stepping outside, Harry urged “Stay alert, now.”

“C-Can’t you put your mask on or something?” His friend was rather frightened, whimpering.

“That would hardly do me any good,” he apologized and tried to seem natural to the bystanders. It was only a short walk to the jeweler, after all. Sadly, apparating into most shops wasn’t possible, since they all placed jinxes on them. Robbery would be fairly easy, otherwise. And he didn’t need to display his rule-defying abilities to the whole world, either. “Don’t worry, if they attack, they won’t kill you. Me, on the other hand…” he sighed. Maybe he should welcome that chance to visit Death? He could simply call him into this realm, too, of course. But that made procrastination so very easy.

The main street significantly emptied, while they were walking toward a fancy-looking jeweler, even Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t have been able to walk by without looking at the goods. The glass door opened for them on its own, welcoming the well-paying guests in. There were no other customers - they had probably fled, too - and only a shop assistant stood behind a glass counter with a brigade of jewelry in it.

Without Harry having even said anything, the young man whimpered “P-Please don’t hurt me- You can have e-everything!” He was pretty young, still, probably in his early twenties. He reminded Harry a bit of Percy, only the red hair and every bit of Gryffindor courage missing. “Please-”

But the Death Eater wasn’t there to hurt anyone. So he tried soothing the man “It’s okay, I’m not here to rob you.” His rank was far too high for such a tedious task, anyway. They usually left that to unmarked allies, even. “I’m only here to help my friend pick out a gift for his girlfriend. Of course, we will pay,” he went up to the counter and rested his arms on it, so the assistant could see his hands. “Just relax,” he comforted the young adult, who was still shaking a bit. But he nodded in understanding - probably thinking, misunderstanding could kill him. Maybe he was right.

A little tense, also, Ron walked toward the counter and told the man “I want to buy a necklace for my girl. Not too expensive, though.”

“O-Oh, okay,” the mage made and started gathering some pieces of jewelry, while warily eyeing Harry pacing around the shop. The latter used his free time to talk to his mate again, still weirded out by the new realizations.

‘ _As your apprentice, I gave all of my financial rights to you? That’s a bit…’_ He didn’t even know, what to call that. Slavery, perhaps.

‘ _Yes, you did. Alongside lots of other rights, too. If I wanted to, I could also tell you where to live or forbid you from attending school. As your master, I am also able to dictate, who you marry. In our case, that’s pretty redundant, anyway. Does that matter?’_

Contemplating that, he came to a conclusion. It really didn’t. As a Death Eater, all of those things had been enforceable, too. But it still felt a little weird to him that Tom had never even mentioned it. ‘ _I didn’t deem it noteworthy, love. Am I not taking good care of you?’_ The apprentice expected some kind of conflicted feeling to come his way, but there was just nothing. His master must have shielded himself off.

‘ _You are. Are there any more things you might want to admit to me?’_

‘ _No, nothing,’_ his husband quickly retorted and Harry knew him to be full of shit. But, again, he wouldn’t force him to tell. ‘ _Sometimes I wish you were less pure. It’s only ever me having the dark secrets. Makes me feel bad almost,’_ his lover answered at that, which had Harry sigh.

Physically shaking his head, he pointed out ‘ _That’s because I don’t keep secrets from you, not because I don’t have any. I trust you, Tom. You could ask me anything and I’d answer.’_ He didn’t intend it to sound this accusing, but it did.

‘ _Really? Then tell me something, dear husband. One part of your mind is shielded off from me - what is there, I shouldn’t see?’_ Now it was his lover’s time to be accusing.

The Master of Death had not thought the other to be able to sense that, honestly. Now that he did, however, he had to prove a point ‘ _It’s not really shielded off from you, master. I don’t want to see it myself. It’s about Cedric and Albus. I haven’t…’_ He was suddenly snapped back into reality when Ron wanted his advice. Harry showed him, which necklace he found the most beautiful and returned to his mate. ‘ _I haven’t really… coped with it. Their deaths, I mean. See? I can tell you stuff just fine.’_ Why couldn’t he? Harry doubted there was anything worse than Tom’s childhood.

At that, his mate fell silent for a while. But he soon came up with a solemn idea ‘ _I- I will tell you, too.’_

 _‘I thought you told me everything?’_ He teased his mate.

‘ _Remember, when I told you I wasn’t afraid of anything? Yes, this is the same issue, love. Anyway, I will not tell you- I will show you.’_ He corrected himself a bit sheepishly and Harry did remember. Was his husband still trying to woo and impress him? ‘ _I… am a bit vain like that; you know. Just… wait a few more days and keep all your shields low for me. I promise I will show you.’_ Even with their emotional bond somehow blocked off by his mate, Harry could hear him speak a bit insecurely. That never ended well, either.

Gently, Harry told the older one ‘ _It’s alright. And, hey, at least you’re outright promising now! I think we made some progress today!’_ Before, his mate had always evaded saying ‘I promise’. Harry felt pride wash over him. He was curing the other of his Slytherin-ish behavior.

‘ _Do I get a star-shaped sticker for good behavior now, Saint Potter?’_ His mate became sarcastic again, which relieved the Master of Death. That was a sign he was feeling well.

Teasing right back, he warned ‘ _Don’t let the purebloods hear that, you little Muggle.’_

‘ _Cheeky brat,_ ’ his master huffed at that. He didn’t like Harry abusing his soft spots.

‘ _Muggle_.’

With that said, Harry returned his attention to Ron, who finally picked out a silver necklace with a rose quartz stone dangling from it. “Bloody perfect, “ his best friend victoriously declared and Harry nodded in agreement. It really did look nice for a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to come next week.  
> Thanks for the kudos, guys! I know it's not much, yet, but I promise the story will be as nice as the last one! The first 2-3 chapters are needed to set up the rest, though. So it will take a bit more time until it becomes dramatic and sexy :P


	3. Protecting the triangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out, why his husband is always tired. As a consequence, his protective side is being revived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wrote itself faster than I thought! Good for you, I guess!

**Chapter 3**

**Protecting the triangle**

* * *

* * *

 

He awoke with a start, cold sweat on his skin, and shaking. He didn’t know what for, but he did. The young mage sat up on his bed, grey, dish-towel-like blanket slipping away from his body. The mattress below him felt hard and uncomfortable, barely better than a piece of wood or floor. Why was he here again? The student stood up, bare feet touching the dusty, dirty floor. It was cold and as he looked outside the window, snow stuck to the glass and obstructed his view partially. He hated the winter, it was far too cold. 

‘ _ Where am I?’ _ He asked in his mind, although he very well knew it. He was in his ‘home’. The hell-hole, he had been given to. Walking up to the door, the dark-haired male wanted to open it but found it to be locked. He couldn’t remember to have been punished for anything, so why was it? Maybe someone was playing a trick on him. Maybe Billy had stolen the keys to get revenge for something petty. ‘ _ Who is Billy?’ _ Well, one of the other orphans, of course. Tom didn’t know, why his head was asking these weird questions today. Maybe he was having a fever? With a frown, the young boy touched his own forehead, as Mrs. Cole so often did. But it wasn’t warm, really. How could it when his room was this cold? Frowning at these weird differences today, Riddle walked up to his window sill, where a bunch of his possessions laid. Mainly, pretty stones, and toys, he had stolen from the others.  _ Burrowed _ , really. Outside, he could hear the church’s bells ringing - he should have been well on his way to school, shouldn’t he? Had they forgotten about him today? 

While he didn’t care for school, much, he still worried. What if they forgot him completely and he’d starve? No, he guessed that was a silly thought. ‘ _ Tom, are you… dreaming?’ _

Dreaming? Why would he? Tom didn’t feel, as if he were dreaming. What was wrong with his head? When he thought more closely on it, the voice didn’t even sound like his own. He hoped he wasn’t going crazy now - well, the doctors thought, he already had. They were wrong, though. 

He heard heavy footsteps outside, far too heavy for a child or woman. It made him suspicious and for some weird reason, fear spiked within his heart. But the steps stopped in their tracks, before going somewhere else again. Maybe it was the janitor or one of the caretakers. Not minding, Tom lifted his mattress and pulled out a book from beneath it. He had snitched it from school a few days ago. He tightly wrapped the blankets around him again, nevertheless freezing, as he started reading some fairy tale. ‘ _ Tom, wake up. You’re trapping me in your dream, I think.’ _ But there it was again, the weird voice. Despite Tom trying to ignore it, it echoed within his mind ‘ _ Was this, what you wanted to show me? I don’t… understand.’ _ He wanted the thing to go away! Hearing voices wasn’t good. Maybe he was really beginning to be sick. He read on for a while, interested in the tale. But after a few more minutes, the steps returned. His breath hitched, as they became louder and small earthquakes seemed to reach his room. 

He heard the sound of keys being taken out of a pocket before one was inserted in his door. Finally, someone had remembered him! Maybe he’d get breakfast now. Even then, he felt anxiety gnaw at him. But why? ‘ _ M-Master… Please wake up.’ _ The foreign voice was sounding fearful, too. Did it know more than him? His wooden, old door opened and in stepped one of the caretakers - he hadn’t even bothered to learn his name. They often changed, anyway. Although this one  _ had _ persevered longer than the others if he thought more closely on it. He was a big, bulky man with a face only a mother could love. If Tom had to guess, he was close to thirty, so almost dead, anyway. 

“Hello, lovely… Enjoying your day off?” The man cooed at him for whatever reason. Of course, Mrs. Cole was always nice to him. But the others usually were a bit harsher. The man grinned, oily, reddish hair sticking to his head. 

“My day off, sir?” Tom questioned his words. Since when did select orphans get days off? He didn’t understand. The others were in school, he felt certain. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be this quiet. ‘ _ Tom, please…’  _ What was going on? He didn't enjoy being left in the dark about things.

The man smiled, showing unkempt teeth. “Well, yes. Didn’t you hear? You were granted a free day.” Weirdly enough, the man locked the door at that. 

Squinting his eyes, young Riddle pointed out “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that, sir. Are you sure?” Again, fear hit him full force and he felt helpless, trapped. What was going to happen to him? “I think there was a class test today, too…” There wasn't, but the man was lying, too, so it was okay.

The man’s face fell at that, as he grumbled “Hmpf, aren’t you a smart one, huh? You’re right, there is no day off. No, I told Cole you were ill, boy. Thought we could play for a bit, lovely.” But he soon regained his happier demeanor, as he put the set of keys on top of the door-frame, where Tom couldn’t reach. While he was widely known as a trouble-maker, he found that confusing. He'd not do anything with an adult in the room. He wasn't dumb.

“Play…?” Tom suddenly got the feeling, something was wrong with the man. Since when did they play with the orphans? They usually smoked outside and did anything, but. ‘ _ Tom- Tom, I don’t want to see this-’ _ What didn’t the voice want to see? Could mind-voices even see? ‘ _ Wake up!’ _ Why? But more importantly,  _how_?

“Yeah, play…” the old man chuckled and took off his belt. “You like playing, don’t you?” Tom became overwhelmed with fright from unknown whereabouts, petrified. “We can do lots of it… if you’re good. You’re so pretty, you know?” This was wrong. No one ever said such a thing to them. He tried to get away, but there was no way out. He only had the wall behind him. So he helplessly watched on, as the man went on. 

‘ _ Tom, wake up! He’s going to- Please, just-’ _ Tom wanted to run, but he couldn’t. Couldn't the voice help him?

“So, lovely… I think this will be fun,” the male went on talking, but Riddle had long since closed his eyes. He pressed more into the cold wall behind him, knowing this was inevitable. It always was. Every night. Every dream. Always. 

‘ _ Please, make it stop- I can’t look at him doing that to you-’ _

There was no escape. 

‘ _ No!’ _

But at least he could spare his mate the horror.

* * *

 

Horrified and disoriented, Harry suddenly regained control over his own body again, not a bodyless observer, anymore. Not getting, where he was, he tried to scramble away from whatever was on top of him currently. But, with a shocked shout, he soon found himself falling out of his bed, apparently, landing on the wooden floor. Nevertheless, he kicked the blanket away from him, which had tangled around his body. He was breathing too fast.

“Mate? What’s going on?” His concerned best friend had awoken from the loud thud and shout, as had everyone else in their dormitory. They all seemed equally as confused as Harry, who was staring at nothing in particular, wide-eyed.

“I-I…” he whimpered. What was he supposed to tell them? He had an image to keep up and a mate to rescue- Telling them about his nightmare wouldn’t work. “I er… I’m being called! E-Emergency, you see?” The Death Eater had a brilliant idea and summoned his wand into his shaking hand, before struggling to get up. For the sake of authenticity, he quickly, and magically, changed into his Death Eater robes. “Sorry, I’ve woken you up, guys! Didn’t mean to…” He awkwardly placed his blanket on top of his bed again, but next stocked in his tracks. Where even  _ was _ Tom?

“It’s alright…” Multiple people assured him, staring at him in apprehension. It must have been a sight to see him in his full costume in the middle of the night. 

But Harry had different problems now, but also a way to solve them. With a guilty conscience, he forced his way into his master’s mind, wriggling through his Occlumency shields easily. While trying to avoid slipping into the dream again - which wasn’t all that hard; it was simply gone - he quickly located the other’s whereabouts and apparated toward him. Nevertheless, his turbulent emotions were almost overwhelming him. He ended up in some relatively expensive-looking bedroom; probably a hotel room, if he had to guess. Everything had a sort of nightmarish, beige color and the furniture looked classical - or something, Harry wasn’t an interior designer - as he spun around and saw his mate sitting on a grand-ish bed. He looked completely out of place, wearing a black shirt, and black hair falling into his face, as he refrained from looking at his husband. 

Tom croaked “Are you  _ happy _ now?” Harry got the impression, his lover was mad at him, so he didn’t approach him at first and kept standing near the edge of the bed. The dangerous, magical field around Tom confirmed his assumption.

The Master of Death had no idea, how to answer the question. He felt as if everything would be wrong, anyway. Very gently, he answered, “I’m glad you’ve shown me, yes.” The apprentice folded his hands behind his back, not looking at his master. He expected to be shouted at, hurt, maybe. But he was willing to take it for the other. He'd do the same.

“I’ve shown you, but you didn’t even look…” the other male told him, hurt. 

“Master…” Harry began to say, but his words died down. He supposed it wasn’t a good idea to tell his husband his demands were impossible. Tom wasn’t being reasonable right now and he couldn’t blame him. “I’m sorry.” But what for? He knew nothing could make this right again. The damage had been done decades ago.

His mate silently shook his head and Harry knew, he was fighting back his tears again. Even with his apprentice, he seldom let go. The former enveloped his mate with his magic and force-fed him some positivity, but it hardly helped. But at least his husband didn’t lash out at him again and instead hollowly stated “I… I have these dreams every night. Every,  _ fucking  _ night. I just want to sleep…” Tom was frustrated, more than Harry had ever seen him be. 

Redundantly, the younger wizard concluded, “That’s why you are tired all the time.” But he wanted to say something; he didn’t want to leave the other alone with this. Testing the waters, he silently walked up to his lover, slowly approaching him. He wanted to ask, why he had not told them of this sooner. But accusations wouldn’t do him any good, now. “Since when?” He simply wondered, instead. 

Tom turned his head away from him more, but at least did not shy away, when he laid a hand on his back. “Your death.” That had been in autumn. It was mid-January, now. “A-Although I had them in the past, too… Just not this frequently,” his partner confessed at that, comforted by being patted. Carefully, as if interacting with a hurt animal, Harry sat down next to his bond-mate on the soft mattress. Once he had, the other leaned against him heavily, demanding more affectionate gestures. Harry happily provided. 

“Do they go away, when I’m with you?” The apprentice could only hope. If it was like that, they’d simply need to sleep together in one bed again. That would prove difficult, logistically, but he’d do anything to aid the other. 

“No,” his mate destroyed his hopes, however, but remarked “But waking up is a bit easier. That is… if Bartemius isn’t next to me.” 

His heart throbbing, the teen drew another conclusion “Barty makes it worse.” 

But the other quickly corrected him, looking at him in sorrow. “N-No, not… completely. Only, when he’s hugging me or too close in general and I wake up after a nightmare. I just…. Don’t get, who he is, then.” Harry was now able to see the full extent of Tom’s exhaustion. He must have already had Glamours on him - he was looking deader than Harry or Death. His skin was pale and unhealthy looking, his eyes and hair too dull. “I… tend to mistake Bartemius for  _ h-him _ ,” Riddle confessed, combing through his hair shakily. Before the Death Eater could comment on that, his master apologized “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Harry embraced his favorite dark wizard of all time, holding him close. In thought, the other male touched his arm, as if to catch it quickly, should it try to escape. Harry wished the other would simply tell him, what he needed. “I didn’t expect you to profess your undying love to him after a month, Tom. And he didn’t, either. We all know, you’re trying.” His plans did not always work out, but at least he was motivated. 

Chuckling self-deprecatingly, Tom questioned “How can you even love me? I’m a mess. I can’t believe you haven’t grown tired of me, already, love.” He seemingly didn’t or couldn’t believe in his words. 

Harry nosed at his lover’s neck, planting small kisses there. Tom made a strangled noise upon that and tensed, but his resistance died down after a few seconds. “Maybe I love messes.” Perhaps, he really did. If he thought more closely about it, Barty was one, too. And the Weasleys, Remus, Sirius, Death… all of them, too. “But we have to find a way to help you out, master. I won’t go before we solved this.” He couldn’t abandon his mate like that. They all had, but he wouldn't.

Sighing, the other seemed to grow demotivated. “I have tried everything. If I take any more Dreamless Sleep potions, I’ll become addicted or poison myself. I can’t use Occlumency to shield myself off, either. Legilimency to call you worked just fine… but I- Maybe you really shouldn’t see… that. There is nothing, which would be able to help me.” 

But Harry wasn’t about to give up that easily “Why not go to a medi-witch? They surely have some kind of treatment. And… this is somehow related to my death, right? Perhaps staying together, would help after all…”

But, at the mention of a medi-witch, Tom became flustered “And whom would  _ I _ go to? Pomfrey? She’s not going to help. St Mungos? They’ll imprison me before I can say as much as Quidditch. And, well… Narcissa? She’s not a real medi-witch. Harry, give up. It’ll… go away on its own, at some point.” He had a point. “Also, don’t you think I read up on it? There is nothing. Dreamless Sleep is the go-to answer for wizardkind.” Another good point. Harry decided to oppose him, nevertheless. That was his job, after all. 

Unhappy, the younger man kept on hugging his mate. He was stubborn - there had to be a solution to this. But the only thing he found sounded delusional, even to himself. “Er… we could look up something  _ Muggle.  _ Their medicine is different. And they have no clue, who you are.” 

“Are you telling me to go to a psychiatrist, love?” His mate stared at him, unamused. “Been there, done that. As a child, that is. Nevertheless, I can’t recommend it.” Apparently, that was another soft spot. Harry enjoyed finding them, but not now. And not this kind of them.

“But… that’s been half a century ago!”

“Do you have to word it like that?” His mate huffily snapped, not enjoying to be called old. 

Still, a lot of stuff had probably changed since then. Defiantly, he fought his master “If you won’t look into it, I will. I’m certain there is Muggle research on this, too. After all, they have to survive without magic! And besides that, we should really have you sleep close to me again. Somehow.” They'd find a way!

Delighted, Riddle mocked him “Am I still authority to you? Because it somehow doesn’t sound like it.” He was only partially right, though. 

“You appointed me to be your right hand, master! As such, it is my duty to care for you. Now, be nice and give in.” Devilishly, the Master of Death smirked “Otherwise, I’ll have to call Death to help you with his means.” 

His mate hissed something incomprehensible, but then agreed “Fine, do your blasted research. You won’t find anything of value, anyway.” 

“And we will be together more often. I mean- where are you even? Where is this?” He let go of his mate and waved his arms around. He had never seen this place before. 

“Paris, love. I spent the whole day negotiating with various, rude wizards. It wasn’t entertaining, to say the least,” he hummed and tiredly let himself fall backward and onto his back, stretching his limbs. Harry attacked his vulnerable, lean belly, tickling it a bit. Tom tried to stop him, but soon found out he was too weak to prevent his doings. So he had to surrender to his administrations, helplessly laughing at it. Harry liked him far more, when he was smiling and laughing in earnest. He wanted this to be their life. No war, no pain, no politics. But he feared that would only come in the afterlife.

Soon, he had some mercy on the exhausted man, stopping his attack and in turn stroking over his stomach gently, as he asked “So, we’re going for world domination now?” He laid down next to his mate next, touching him anywhere, he could reach. Touching always helped. If it was Harry. 

“No, not really. We’re going for ‘ _ Let’s hope the other countries don’t decide to gang up on us _ .’ I’m merely trying to secure our position. I’m not a megalomaniac. Please… let’s not talk about politics.” He shuffled closer, the same sentiment in mind, before crushing his mate beneath himself and clearly demanding to be held. Harry gladly hugged his middle and, without a word or sound, apparated them below the blanket and into the right position to sleep comfortably. “You’re becoming scary, love.” His Dark Lord murmured at his unholy powers, which seemed absurd to the Master of Death. 

“You’re only saying that, because you’re jealous. And you probably find me being strong sexy,” he teased the other but did not attempt to engage in anything sexual. He did not think of his mate to be ready. Nevertheless, he snuck a hand beneath his shirt and caressed his soft skin. He was only human - well, not really. But still. 

“We already talked about your power, love. You’re powerful, but you still lack control. Don’t overestimate yourself. As of yet, Bartemius would be more adept at controlling his magic. And you’re emotional; that’s not ideal, either.” His mentor scolded him for his lacking humbleness and he reddened a bit. 

“You’re moody, too,” he insulted him, not liking this. He needed to be stronger.

Tom lifted his head and grinned at him, reminding “I’m your equal, am I not? I never said I wasn’t. But I am able to hide that better than you and suppress my emotions.” He then put his head below his chin, breathing in his mate's scent. 

“Suppressing emotions isn’t healthy, though, master. You’ve got to talk about them.” Really, this was their main  _ issue _ . Tom never talked about his problems on his own; Barty, neither. “You should tell Barty about your nightmares, Tom. And you should also be more honest with him in general. He’s not… dumb. He’ll notice you’re only pretending to be more comfortable with him. If you go on like this, he’ll expect you to make giant leaps of progress from now on. Don’t break his heart on accident.” Harry had noticed his husband saying things to Barty, which seemed intimate and trusting upon first glance, but had been forced. 

Tom whined upon that “If you go on like that, you’ll have to write a list of things I have to change. I can’t remember all of that!” But Harry felt him acknowledging his opinion and feeling guilty. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll remind you,” Harry happily cooed, but he saw Tom thinking, this was more of a threat. “Tsk. You’re just thinking that, because of your sleep-deprivation. Sleep now, I’ll keep the nightmares away,” he soothed his master, roles again reversed. 

“You’re too optimistic,” he was scolded again, but ignored it. 

Hugging him more tightly, he caressed his lower back again. “Being optimistic is good, Tom. And also, I don’t have to sleep more today. It’s like - what - 2 o’clock? I’ve slept enough; I’m undead. I’ll force the nightmares to go away, while you sleep. This is only a temporary fix, maybe, but it’s something.” Surely, the Legilimense could influence Tom like that. It might have been a bit tedious, but he did not mind. His mate deserved a full night’s rest here and there. 

The Dark Lord understood his plan and gave in, too tired to fight back. “Promise me-” 

“I won’t sacrifice my sleep and health for you, no. I’ll keep care of myself, I promise,” he kissed his mate’s head, who really ought to be a bit more selfish, sometimes. If people knew just how considerate  _ You-Know-Who _ could be… they’d be dead. Slaughtered. All of the siblings. Gone.

“Hm… so encouraging…” 

He wordlessly kissed him again, before aiding him to fall asleep.

* * *

 

 

Harry had underestimated the Dueling Club. Extremely, so. He had walked toward the Great Hall on the next Monday noon and had already been hearing excited noises coming from within. Stage-fright skyrocketing, he stood in front of the large door and fought with himself to open it. He had been excited the past few days, had been anxious about it, even. But his other issues had distracted him a bit, too. He and Tom had spent the last few nights together, so he could keep track of his dreams. In those nightly hours, the apprentice had already tried to read through some medical texts on night terrors and everything similar. But those texts were proving to be a bit too hard to understand. He had been too detached from Muggle culture to understand half of it. If he couldn't decipher them soon, he'd go to Hermione. Her parents were dentists - that would do.

So, really, the Dueling Club had been a bit forgotten. But now… He felt ready to faint. He felt far too many students in there. Maybe it had been a mistake to allow second-years and upward to join. And where was Barty, his assistant and moral support? He didn’t have a good feeling about this. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bail now. He had to do this. He was able to do it, too! McGonagall would be proud!

Harry tried to swallow down his emotions, as he let the door swing open with the use of some of his magic. Even then, his eyes probably widened. Too many students. And teachers, too. There must have been 50 to 70 students in all colors standing around the wooden stage, used for dueling. But there were even more people sitting on benches nearby and Professors sitting at their usual desk, looking on in interest. This was hell. This was the punishment, he deserved for killing all these people, he felt certain. 

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Harry approached the stage and climbed up on it, the chatter died down. That hardly comforted him.

Nervously, he declared “Oh Merlin… I didn’t think, there’d be so many of you! I’m er… flattered. Thanks, everyone.” That was a good start, he supposed. Some people chuckled, but he also heard some clapping, at which he spotted Hermione, Neville and all of his other friends in his year. “So, who of you attended the club before?” Some hands raised, but not the majority of them. Great, now he had to explain stuff. “Not many, then. So, maybe I should reveal to you, how all of this works, right?” People nodded, at which he helplessly stared in McGonagall’s general direction, who was sitting at her place and smiling almost sadistically. 

Trying to sound brave, he elaborated “The way this will work is that I am going to demonstrate whole duels or spells, first. Afterward, you can try for yourself. This is a relatively free club. As long as you don’t try to kill someone, you may try out every spell and hex you find interesting. My assistant - who will surely join us soon - and I will always be there to help you out.” Some nodded at that in interest, others seemed to not even listen. “I should warn you, though. We are going to practice the traditional version of dueling. In real life, it won’t be the same. Your enemy won’t patiently wait for you to cast something, before he does, too. This is good practice and, for the  _ purebloods _ , a valuable, social skill. But nothing more.” Upon that, the first pupils started to seem disappointed. They had probably expected more of him. “For this gathering, we will focus on the rules and how it’s done. Maybe we’ll practice some shields today, too. Are there any question, up until now?” Harry was glad, not all of them kept their excitement. He had no clue, how he was supposed to coordinate these many people. 

A Ravenclaw girl, 7th year, raised her hand and he called on her. “Can you elaborate more on the purposes of this?” 

Smiling, he told her “Of course. Pureblood families often use these kinds of duels to sort out their problems. In the past, we also used it to determine, how strong potential grooms were. That... doesn’t really work out anymore, since there aren’t many to choose from, anyway. But it’s also seen as some sort of social event to simply show off your power or place bets for fun. Otherwise, it’s a safe way to practice combat. After all, you can’t throw a beginner right into a real battle, can you? I learned with this, too.” He perceived Hermione cringe at the blood-status-mention but did not mind.

Behind him, someone called “Can you show us a real battle, too?” 

Chuckling, he turned around “No, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want to hurt Professor Crouch, after all. Or vice versa. We are both trained to… well, kill. I would not be able to promise us not reacting on instinct and firing a Killing Curse at each other.” Of course, dying wasn’t all that dire to him, anymore. But he still didn’t want to risk it. He felt as if it would break their promises to each other if one of them died.

Disappointed noises came from all sides, at which he had to sigh. Why were they so bloodthirsty? He had the creeping suspicion, they were simply here to see him battle someone. So he had to make a compromise, for McGonagall’s sake, really “We will be holding tournaments, once we’ve got the hang of this, too. And -  _ maybe - _ I will bring in visitors to fight me. If you’re really, really good, you can fight them, too.” Upon that, whispering started to emit and he had seemingly revived their spirits. 

“Death Eaters?” 

“You-Know-Who?” 

He heard different kinds of ideas and his Dark Mark seemed fairly interested in this, too. So he smirked “Hm… We’ll see about that. For today, though, it’s only our dear Professor Crouch…” Nevertheless, they stared up at him wide-eyed. Since his assistant wasn’t there, though, he frowned “Hmpf, that is if he actually manages to come here. He’s being tardy! I’ll call him.” Shaking his head in amusement, he rolled up his left sleeve and revealed his Mark to everyone, before taking out his wand and dramatically pressing it into his tattoo. “ **_Barty, get your ass over here or I’ll never let you spoon me again._ ** ” His Mark reacted to his vulgar words all the same and the snake started moving around. Maybe this was practical, after all. If only, to terrorize his older sibling. 

Some second-year Hufflepuff standing close to him, wondered in awe “What did you say, Harry?” 

“E-Er…” he quickly had to come up with something and avoid blushing “Something along the lines of ‘Come here, brother.’ Nothing special.” Well, close enough. 

“Can you teach me the snake-language?” The little guy asked, which had his heart melt, almost. Why were Hufflepuffs always the cutest, little personalities? Barty was also all sorts of adorable. Maybe Tom should have been one, too.

But he sadly had to decline, explaining, as he leaned down, “Only the heirs of Slytherin can speak it, sorry. It’s almost impossible to learn for others.” 

“Oh…” the boy sighed, sad. “Not even something simple? Like… what does ‘hello’ mean?” He didn’t give up, so he indulged him and made a small hissing noise. “Sssss… Like that?” 

Not really, but Harry smiled “ _ Perfect _ .” It would be too complicated to explain to him the nimble differences between hissing-sounds. Although Ron had surprised him one time with a phrase in Parsel, he had apparently memorized. But, already, the door to the hall opened and a tardy Professor came in, alas relaxedly. 

“Brother, I’m sorry. Our Lord had me fetch something again!” He lied easily and Harry grinned. 

“Our Lord isn’t even in England, brother. Hence, he’d not call you, but have you report to  _ me _ . You’re a bad liar and you know it!” He pretended to be angry and pointed at him. To his surprise, Barty was wearing his Death Eater robes. What a show-off, he thought. Students started to get worried, watching their exchange warily.

Meekly, his lover whined “Please don’t discipline me, brother. “ 

“I should, you know. You always come too late! Master would want me to,” he growled and apparently half of the people present thought he was really going to. Heart-warmingly, some pleaded him to not torture their  _ favorite _ Professor. Barty had a real knack with children at times. In an entirely innocent way, of course. “You deserve punishment.” 

As the other slowly crept up onto the stage, he pleaded “Have mercy on me; you know you’re my favorite sibling! Also, you’ll kick my butt now, anyway.” As Harry looked him into his eyes, he caught a mischievous thought ‘ _ And I’ll have yours later, sunshine.’ _ He felt certain Barty had said that on purpose. 

“Hm, maybe you’re right. Being defeated by a 16-year-old is embarrassing enough as is,” he taunted him, as he got closer. 

“Being defeated by the Dark Lord’s apprentice not so much,” his boyfriend smirked and finally reached him, crushing him in one of his  _ brotherly _ hugs. “And I won’t let myself be embarrassed that easily, anyway.” Seemingly, Crouch Jr had not yet given up completely. The Master of Death felt excited, as well. He had never fought his brother, before. Letting go of him again, Barty proceeded to question “Uh… will we fight with dark magic or without?” 

“Without, of course! We wouldn’t want to teach them anything bad, right? And I also don’t want to hurt you…” Harry sheepishly admitted as they moved toward the middle of the stage. He then faced the crowd, explaining “We’ll now show you a traditional duel without any foul play, too. All spells are allowed, expect dark ones. First to call for mercy, is stunned, or faints, loses. Please step away from the stage a bit, though. Wouldn’t want a spell to hit you.” He next faced Barty and wanted to hold up his wand to start the duel, but a hand suddenly obscured his vision, before he felt cold bone resting on his face. “Really? You’re making my mask redundant, Bar- brother.” 

“This all adds to authenticity, though. And I kinda like seeing you with it,” his Professor whispered to him, at which Harry had some revenge on him and reached out to his face, also. With a bit of black smoke, a matching mask appeared on his mate’s face. Pupils made fascinated noises. ‘ _ Maybe you should wear that, while I bend you over my table, sunshine.’ _

“You’re an idiot,” he cooed lovingly, which some people had heard, as they began laughing. Now, though, the Master of Death held up his wand, which prompted the other to do so, as well, and smirk. They then lowered them quickly again and turned around, walking away from each other. Harry could feel the excitement in everyone - this felt like a Quidditch game to him, almost.

The second Harry turned around to face his mate again, the other non-verbally threw  _ Expulso  _ at him, but he deflected it with a flick of his wand, so it would go right back to the aggressor. Barty didn’t seem to have anticipated that, as he simply cast  _ Protego _ , which had the spell dissipate. Before he could do anything further, Harry already directed the next spell at him,  _ Flippendo _ , which unsurprisingly had Barty fly a few meters and land on his back. Excited shouts came from the crowd, but the older Death Eater stood up again and shook his pain off, producing a terrifying sound. Harry felt his mate’s aura grow intimidating; maybe he shouldn’t have done that. But he could only wait for the other to cast something, since it was his turn, now. He didn’t have to wait for long, however, when Barty threw a stronger blasting curse at him, which he stopped with a counter-curse quickly enough. They went on in this manner for a few minutes, but, clearly, Harry had the upper hand. 

That in itself made Barty increasingly frustrated and sloppy, having him end up on his butt more often than not. With a snarl, he demanded “This is- I can’t work like that! I wanna use real spells- not these no-good, pacifistic, kindergarten curses!” Harry had sufficiently unnerved him. His magic lashed out, scaring the more sensitive students of theirs.

Shocked by his mate’s outrage, he gave in rather reluctantly “I… understand. Let’s use dark ones, too, then.” The crowd seemed to enjoy that notion, not the teachers and Harry’s closest friends, though. But he wanted to appease his mate and also his own curiosity. Just how strong was Barty, if he could use every spell? 

“ _ Sectumsempra! _ ” Crouch Jr suddenly spat out and Harry had to duck, horrified, to avoid being sliced by invisible swords. Apparently, Barty had read the same tome as he had. Despite him ducking, he felt a sharp pain on his right shoulder and hissed, as something luke-warm began running down his arm. Theoretically, he could use his turn to heal himself. But he’d rather not risk it with Barty looking a tad bit murderous. He had riled him up too much, hadn't he?

To avenge his shoulder, he swished his wand through the air and cast  _ Confringo _ , something, which could easily kill a target, but Barty managed to jump back and cast another shield. Only for him to cast something firey at him - Fiendfire, to be more exact. Now, Harry felt positive the other was genuinely trying to kill him. Harry was a Horcrux, Barty bloody  _ knew _ that. But, again, with his special wand, the Master of Death transformed the unholy flames into a puff of smoke. He repeated his earlier blasting spells, staying on the defensive. 

At that, Barty’s eyebrows narrowed and he became flustered. “This duel will go on endlessly if you don’t start using darker curses, brother!” Somehow, he was right. Still, Harry did not want to cast anything too dangerous on him. Barty was, plainly said, human. He did not even possess Horcruxes. And, while he probably could revive him, he had no way of explaining that to the audience afterward. 

So, reluctantly, Harry mustered up the courage to do something relatively dark, but harmless “ _ Crucio! _ ” He hissed at his own mate, but it had little to no effect. Probably, because he simply could not bring up the hatred to hurt the other and Barty was rather resistant to it, anyway. Barty didn’t even sink to his knees or started to shake, he simply tensed up and his tongue flicked out. He still sought revenge, though, and cast the same curse. The difference being, this was his specialty and the Master of Death started screaming at the top of his lungs. So much so, he let go his own curse and fell on all fours, trying not to give up. He’d not lose to Barty because of this! 

“Brother, you should have just attacked me in earnest! Because, I’m not going to let the curse go now, until you tell me to,” his mate suddenly cooed at him and drew closer, his steps seeming so horrifying, suddenly. “You brought this upon yourself, Harry, “ he chuckled, while the room fell deathly silent, except for the apprentice’s screams. After a few more seconds of pain, Barty demanded, his voice faltering the tiniest bit, “Tell me to let go.” 

“No!” He defiantly called, scrunching up his fists. This was not, how he would be defeated. If this were all it took, he’d be ashamed of himself. He had done so well before!

“Harry, tell me to make it stop…” Crouch Jr clearly took no pleasure in seeing his lover writhe on the floor in this context. “Come on,  _ sunshine _ , three little words…” But Harry still shook his head, stubborn. He'd not give up! He had to be stronger!

Meanwhile, the first people started to freak out. Especially Neville, who had a very special connection to Crouch’s Cruciatus. “Professor, stop! Please- not again!” 

But Barty defended himself “I would if he told me to! Also, we’re in a duel. The rules forbid it; there is no draw possible.” 

Harry was shaking from the pain, but used his Professors’ distraction to his advantage. Clutching at his wand he silently cast the Imperiatus, hoping he could make Barty stop that way. If only for a few seconds to get a breather.

He did hit his lover with it, but, in his pain, he had forgotten about one little detail. “Brother, really? Imperiatus on me?” Barty had been under its influence for so long it was rather difficult to curse him, nowadays. Harry’s mistake, however, was far worse than he was able to comprehend at first. Crouch let the curse go now - to his surprise - and cast something else. It was  _ his _ turn, now. “ _ Stupefy. _ ” 

The Master of Death had lost to a simple Death Eater. To say his pride had taken a blow put it lightly. Tom had been right; Barty was more in control of his magic than him. Or maybe he was simply more ruthless.

“Ha- Told you I wouldn’t lose, brother!” Barty taunted him a little, before undoing the stunning spell on him and helping him up. “Although you did put up a good fight,” he was praised at that, as his back was stroked. Every limb of Harry’s hurt and he was still bleeding from his shoulder. 

“You only won, because I let you use dark magic!” He huffed at him, while Barty tapped his wand against his shoulder and tried to heal him. Nothing happened. 

Trying to play that little fact down, the other hummed “Well, you could have fired some darker spells my way, too! It’s not my fault you did not. I won’t break that easily, will I?” 

Trying not to freak out at his wound not closing, Harry ignored his mate and directed his attention toward the crowd “You see, dueling can become quite intense. But, for now, I want all of you to try and practice shields. Before you can produce a sufficient one, you won’t be allowed to duel. If you already can cast one, you may pair up and test each other’s strengths for a while. If you need help, come to us. Maybe some of the older students can practice dueling today, too.” He prayed no one would come to them. Maybe it would have been wiser to duel at the end of the meeting and not right away. 

Most students started to gather in smaller groups and chat, while they started doing their spells. Other’s simply sat down somewhere and talked. Harry keened suddenly when his mate pressed against his back and gave him some comfort, as they watched over the others practicing.

“Sorry I went too hard on you, sunshine,” he silently told him, trying to make their closeness less obvious. “But you did kind of deserve it.” 

With a whine, the apprentice pointed out “I didn’t want to lose to you…” He would have been content to lose to Tom, but Barty? He felt his favorite becoming offended at that, so he quickly clarified “N-No, not because I think you’re weak! I just… how am I supposed to protect all of you, if I’m weaker than everyone? I thought… I became better…” He had all sorts of new, crazy abilities. He could dismantle complicated wards, silently apparate with low energy-cost, summon impossible stuff… So why was fighting not easier for him?

Barty couldn’t help it, as he stepped in front of him and took his arm, looking at him lovingly. “You don’t have to protect us; we’re all well-functioning adults. Sunshine, you’re 16! You- You are still in apprenticeship. Nobody expects you to be a master, already. Do you think our Lord was this strong right from the beginning?” As always, his other favorite, dark wizard of all time grounded him and helped him to gain a clear head again. 

Although he also had to disagree slightly. “Barty… they do expect me to be a master. Everyone does! The Light sent me to my death, two years ago- And now… I’m the Master of Death! I’m- I’m your master, too!” It was true. If Tom was gone, he was his replacement. Harry was also responsible for Death itself. How could Barty say, he did not need to be a master?

Unhappily, Crouch shook his head. He looked around them again, making sure nobody was watching them too closely. “Maybe you have the title of master, but that doesn’t mean you have to be perfect at it. Just look at  _ him _ ; is he perfect? No. If he were, he'd not have a right hand. Also, you’re not alone. I will always be there to help you out with being a leader. And what does being the Master of Death even mean, hm? Nothing, really. I don’t see you doing anything in that regard. Don’t worry about it so much.” Harry wished he could kiss the other or cuddle with him, at least. “Hm… What you should worry about, though, is your wound… I can’t heal it.”  In curiosity, his bleeding wound was eyed. It wasn’t extremely obvious since his robes were black, but he was losing blood still.

“Healing charms don’t work on undead…” the Necromancer huskily explained to him. Healing charms were used for flesh, which was alive. He felt embarrassed, deeply so, as he took his wand again and pointed it at his own shoulder. This was only a half-crazy idea of his, but maybe it would work. “ _ Sana Mortuis _ ,” he whispered almost inaudibly, casting a healing charm for Inferi and similar creatures on himself. The wound closed, but Harry wished it had not. This wasn’t good. “... I have to speak to Death.” He couldn’t postpone this much longer, as much as he wanted to. He felt sick, is stomach turning. As he glanced up at his lover, the other had an unreadable expression on his face. Barty had not seen the being, yet. Perhaps he was lucky. 

“Don’t kill yourself…” his brother warned and it came out as a genuine threat. 

But at least he could comfort him there, as he shook his head “No, he can come into this realm, too. Not for long, but he can. At least until Life catches on and gets angry.”  Barty made an acknowledging, but terrified sound at that. Harry could understand the sentiment. Death was nice to his master, but that friendliness seemingly did not extend to others, as well. “ I’ll talk to him this evening,” he told himself more than Barty, so he would not start procrastinating again. 

But, he’d need to go through some more suffering before that could happen, Harry supposed, since his best friends suddenly came toward him, wanting to talk. He usually wouldn’t put ‘best friends’ and ‘suffering’ into one sentence, but now he did. Barty seemed equally as annoyed, not happy to have to step away from his mate, now. “Hey, guys, what’s the matter? Need help with Protego?” But they shook their heads, upon which he leaned against his boyfriend’s side a bit, the latter now standing next to him again. That would not seem too suspicious, would it?

Hermione was first to speak, managing to chirp while sounding accusing, “We just wanted to check, whether you were okay. That duel seemed quite intense. I didn’t think you’d actually go that far in a demonstration.” 

Barty wanted to growl something at her in his defense, but Harry lazily held up his hand, shushing him. He didn’t enjoy doing, what the Dark Lord practiced on his siblings. But today, he felt too tired to care. Immediately, his brother recognized the gesture and shut up, trained to do so. “It’s okay, ‘Mione. Master’s done worse, honestly. At least Professor Crouch didn’t throw a Killing Curse my way. Also, I need to build up my resistance, anyway.” He played it down. He wasn’t angry at his fellow Death Eater, only at himself, slightly. On a more gleeful note, he asked “Are you going to join the club?” None of them were decided, yet, so he advertised his club “Well, this was only the start, anyway. It’ll be more fun when we start tournaments, I promise. And, as I said, there’ll be guests. Maybe, someone, I can actually defeat.” He laughed a bit self-pitying. Whom would he get? Pettigrew? Even he had once killed 12 Muggles with one spell. None of them were weak. Maybe he should fight Filch.

At least Neville, Ginny, and Ron seemed interested in seeing that, the latter stating “I guess I’d like seeing Malfoy getting his butt kicked by someone... “ 

Ginny giggled at that. But she also smiled at him sweetly, asking “Is You-Know-Who really going to come, too?” Everyone eyed her knowingly at that, but she quickly snapped “I don’t have a crush on him, I swear! Not anymore, at least. I just want to see, how Harry fights him!” No one seemed to believe her much.

But Longbottom got worried for his friend “Harry, isn’t he a bit s-strong? I don’t want to offend you, but… I don’t want you to get hurt…  _ m-more _ .” The teen spoken to felt his heart warm at his worry, knowing Neville was a true friend of his. Although he vaguely registered him trying to avoid looking at Crouch, still. 

“He is strong, yes. But he’s also my husband and won’t hurt me because of that. Also, we dueled a lot, when I wasn’t in school. With him, I actually do have an advantage, because I know how he fights.” Maybe being able to read his mind and therefore being able to guess his next step helped, too. “Hm… I should ask him to come when he’s having a really bad day. Maybe I can defeat him. Just once! That would be pretty impressive.” 

Barty couldn’t keep silent at that and commented “And pretty suicidal, brother. He’d be huf-  _ angry _ if you defeated him. And I have never seen anyone get the upper hand in a duel with him before. Not even senior Aurors or Dumbledore.” Harry didn’t feel certain, however, if the latter had not done it on purpose. Dumbledore would never have had the heart to kill Tom. They were  _ his boys _ , he had said. The sentiment still meant a lot to Harry. His heart ached as that closed off part of his mind seeped into his consciousness again. His bonded mate must have felt that since he worried “What is wrong?” 

Despite the other staring at the two of them weirdly, not as sensitive to auras and bonds, Harry murmured “A few, minor things. Don’t worry, I’ll solve them soon enough.” He smiled at his platonic mate, before declaring “I’ll have to help out the others now, though. Their shields look horrible.” With that said, he patted his Professor’s arm once and nodded at his friends. Next, he randomly picked students to instruct.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos, guys. <3
> 
> At this point, I think the fanfic will be fairly long again. The main plot hasn't even taken place, yet xD Although there have been hints, already. The real drama should start in the fifth chapter, but chapter four will be stressful for Harry, too.


	4. A troubled square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally stops procrastinating and asks Death about him being undead. Tom is forced to stop his postponing, as well, and has to face Barty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

**Chapter 4**

**A troubled square**

* * *

* * *

 

“Goodbye everyone, see you next week! And don’t forget to practice your shields,” Harry wished his club members goodbye the same day, most of them returning the gesture. As they went outside, Harry asked his mate, who stood beside him on the stage,  “Could you clean up the hall on your own this time? I promise I’ll help you next week, but I should really talk to-” students passed by them, so he whimpered “-my servant.” He’d rather not be exposed.

Chuckling, Barty pointed out “Brother, you’re far too nice all the time. How are you supposed to become a Dark Lord like this? Of course, as your humble, lower ranked brother, I will do as told, master.” Harry’s side was poked, at which he had to giggle. Although his lover had a point, he couldn’t be unfriendly to him.

“And… Can I abuse the DADA classroom for my meeting?” Once his favorite shrugged, he thanked him and quickly apparated away into the classroom, before anyone else could pester him. Especially the younger pupils loved to do that. Unceremoniously, Harry took off his mask and flicked his hand once, locking the door and activating the wards, Barty had installed for their safety. Despite Gibbon’s mysterious death, they were facing quite peaceful times. Nevertheless, one always had to be prepared! The young apprentice then lit the candles, not wanting to be in the dark. Once all of that was done, he uncertainly whispered “Death?” Suddenly, a set of arms encircled his neck, light as nothingness, hugging him. Harry held his heart in shock, not yet having grown accustomed to that.

“Oh, master! I’m so glad you called me… It’s been lonely, you see. But I suppose my loneliness is nothing in comparison to your troubles, hm,” the being cooed at him sympathetically and Harry saw the windows frosting up. He didn’t feel the cold, much. While that was probably for his own good, it reminded him of his issue.

The Master of Death tried to keep his frustration down upon this, but the other was surely able to hear it. “I’m undead, or at least partially.” He simply chocked out, trying to ignore the soft touches, which traced over his collarbones. Death was even less physical in this realm, his touches there, but not really. This was not helping! “Why is this happening? I- Did you do this? Or… is this a curse?” He didn’t want to outright accuse his servant of it; maybe he had not even had a play in it?

A featherlike breath ghosted over his neck, as Death sighed. “I didn’t willingly make you undead, my sweet master, no. But I did cause it, I fear. Though you must forgive me; I never had a master before, I could not have known. This is all new to me, as well, master. I love you so, I would never hurt you.” Harry still had to blush at that confession, even if he still felt uncertain, whether he was being honest or not. “But… maybe this doesn’t have to be bad? Being undead has many advantages…” Harry knew that, of course. But being undead was… a disgrace! It was being _inferior_ to humans.

So he didn’t care for advantages right now and he made that rather clear. With a huff, he hissed “Death, just tell me _why_ this is happening.” He needed some sort of explanation, more clarity in this muddy situation. The unknown was killing him. Literally.

The other kissed his neck - or did he? Death then stepped in front of him, taking his hands into his own, cold ones. Or that of his teenaged husband, rather. Grey eyes looked into his, regret not really evident. “Master, when we first met, I told you that you were my ambassador. While that is true, it’s rather… unprecise. We are… _bonded_ , to put it simply.”

The apprentice gave his best not to be horrified, whispering “L-Like I am bonded to my husband?” This had not been part of the job prescription.

“Depends, which bond you’re alluding to,” the male grinned, sighing “We don’t have a marriage bond or a platonic one, even though I’d like that... Those kinds of bonds knit magic together. Master, I don’t work with the same type of magic as living things do. Which is why I am above your funny laws. So, no, not those kinds of bonds. However… we do have a soul-bond. Very similar to that of this affronting soul-piece, which clings to your soul and is trying to infest it.” The Master of Death almost wanted to scold him for his words about Tom, but he had other worries.

“I am your Horcrux…” Harry deadpanned, eyes wide. He had to sit down on one of the tables, suddenly feeling weak. How was that even possible?

But Death quickly corrected him “No, none of that! Master, I’d never! Also, I can’t… die. No, our souls are fused more deeply. Imagine this: That death-defying piece is clinging to your soul, like a… tumor. It can be easily cut out, theoretically. But our souls are interwoven, the connections growing in number with each day. The end goal is - as I am assuming - to fully merge them. To make you me, and to make me become you. You’re death incarnate, master. Or you will be, at least, if I’m right.” That was honestly worse. _Far_ worse. This was worse than bleeding out in a muddy puddle or being almost mercifully killed by Tonks.

“O-Oh Merlin…”

“Doesn’t that make you happy…?” The fake Tom cocked his head in confusion, but no sadness was yet evident. “You’re my only master forever! People - such as your husband - have done vile deeds to attain the title, which is rightfully yours.”

Shaking, he snapped “No! Why- I don’t want to be death incarnate- I want to be Harry, just me, _human,_  alive! Please, you’ve got to reverse this!” He ripped his hands away from his servant’s, who helplessly stared at his own, lonely ones.

“I… can’t, master. Ripping souls apart destroys them and you… you can’t slay me. It’s permanent.” Harry jumped up, needing to do anything at all, so he paced around the room. “Don’t you… love me anymore, lovely master?” Death seemed heartbroken, although Harry didn’t want to attribute such capability to feel to him right now. He was outraged, frustrated about how unfairly the world treated him. Nevertheless, the room’s temperature dropped dangerously low, which had him stop in his tracks.

Confused, the Death Eater shook his head “Why- Why did you do this? Why did you make me your master!” He didn’t want any of this anymore. This was unfair- couldn’t he live in peace for once?

Whispering, the other pointed out “When I gave the three Peverells my Hallows… I didn’t think, it would turn out like this, master. I just wanted to play a game, it was so boring- But, when I saw you and you were finally born shortly after… I knew I needed to have you for myself.” That hardly satisfied his master, who regarded him in contempt for his selfishness. “Your soul is so unique, so radiant, and pure- I just needed it to be mine. You have seen Purgatory! I have nothing. I am nothing. There are only… souls, who try to escape my grip on them. None of them want to be with me, although I care for them, protect them. I own nothing and no one. I can’t even tell, when I started to exist and when I’ll end. Or where I end and where I begin.” Grey eyes stared at Harry, devoid of emotion. He did not want to be emotionless, too.

“You can’t even feel! You- You’re not human! You don’t live- Death, just-”

“No, I cannot feel. Nothing, but one emotion. Desire,” the imposter stared at him, as Harry walked around the room again, wishing he could run away. “I’m craving, master. Craving for everything, I can’t have. But one thing, one, I can have! You. Won’t you fill my need? I waited so long, so very long. It wasn’t my plan to have you merge with me. I simply… wanted to make you mine and care for you! Please, master, don’t abandon me…” His voice seemed dull, but so full of emotion at the same time. “And maybe… maybe we won’t fully merge, anyway! I… don’t feel like it, at least. I’m still here and you, too!” Death silently stepped closer to him, tentatively touching his arms again and stopping him in his tracks. “Maybe we’ll just exchange a bit of ourselves- a quarter, perhaps! Please, master…” Grey landed on his green again, trying to convey some sort of feeling “Don’t leave me alone again. Don’t make me be nothingness, please…”

“If you don’t know what will happen, who will?” Even then, Harry felt his resilience crumbling. He couldn’t abandon him. Not, when he was saying these things. He felt like he was responsible for Death now. “I… I want to be my own person!” Everyone always dictated, who he was supposed to be. He had freely chosen to be a Death Eater and husband, but not to be Master of Death, the Savior, the Boy-Who-Lived. He could not have the latter trend continue. He wasn’t a slave to destiny!

Light hands encased his face unbidden, Death trying to get closer to him again. “Fate will know... Master, you should not have broken your Prophecy; you angered the sweet Lady. But I am going to do everything in my power to prevent us from becoming one, if that is, what you truly want. Just- Please don’t leave me entirely! Let me have part of you; let me own you as much as you do me! Please…” He was hugged then and a ghost-like face rested against his.

“It’s not like I have much of a choice. I can’t _not_ be your master,” his master sighed, defeated, as he enveloped the middle of the other.

“You can, my master. Please don’t force me to say, how. It’s too horrible,” somewhere, vials made of glass burst with a loud clink, spilling their frozen contents everywhere. Harry regretfully hoped they were Barty’s bottles of Firewhiskey. “Just be mine,” Death begged again, not all that scary.

The apprentice stroked over the otherworldly fabrics of his servant’s clothes, asking “But how does any of this relate to me turning undead?” He wasn’t done with that, yet.

“Your living body can’t cope with my soul inhibiting it. Not even, when it’s such a small portion of it.  It’s dying to accommodate me. I suppose this is a process, which will take some more time. Not too much, however. Master, you should beware; your organs are failing. It might be… not so pretty to look at, once your body fully starts decaying.” Kisses were pressed against his cheek, small tingles of magic perceivable. “Although I’ll always love you, no matter, what.”

His breath hitched. “I won’t look like an I-Inferius, right?” While he loved his children to pieces, he didn’t want to be one himself. At least Barty would never touch him again. Tom probably wouldn’t go beyond a hug anymore. He felt like crying.

His loyal servant must have felt that, since he softly assured him “No, master. You will look completely fine, maybe more pale since there is no blood… But you will most likely suffer. Your body won’t enjoy dying, much. Once it’s over, it should be fine.” Harry presumed, he could live with that. This wasn’t very different from vampires, was it? And they looked fairly normal! “Your body simply needs to accept running on my magic, instead of really living.”

That sounded just like Necromancy, in the end. Now that he knew more about his condition, it didn’t feel half as scary. For now, at least. Harry hugged the being, lost in thought for a while, needing something to comfort him, still. He prayed Tom and Barty would be relaxed about this, too. “So… will you keep me, sweet master?” Death asked him, sounding anxious. His featherlike grip on him tightened, not wanting to accept a negative answer.

“Yes, if you’re being good and preventing this… merge.” He stroked over his back then, earning himself a happy, foreign noise.

“I love you, master,” Death cooed at him again, pressing his body flush against Harry’s, which had the latter blush. He couldn’t say it was unwelcomed, even then.

“I er… love you, too.” Harry tried to suppress unwanted thoughts about Death, involving his teenaged mate’s body laid down on a bed, ready for the taking. If Tom had been his age and in his year, he’d surely had been head over heels for him, too. Not just for his body, of course. Even if that might have been a great factor…

The Death Eater drew in a sharp breath when Death innocently replied “Why, we can do that, too! I have no libido, but I’d gladly provide… Hm, after all, since we’re partially one- That would be simple masturbation, wouldn’t it be?” Huskily, Death breathed into his ear “Deflowering Death would surely be something to brag about, hm, master?”

Harry somehow did not believe him to have no libido. Nonetheless, he politely declined “N-No, sorry. I think my husband might react badly, Death,” he awkwardly chuckled. This was too weird, even for him. Sleeping with a carbon copy of his mate was going a step too far. Why go for a copy, if he could have the real deal?

“I can change into a more pleasing shape, too, master,” the being retorted, not yet giving up.

“No, no, I think not. We’re not going down that road, Death. Not in a thousand years,” the Master of Death clarified. Besides Tom not being okay with this, he also didn’t think this was alright. Death was his servant and forced to obey him. What if Harry forced him into this? Death hardly understood emotions and he did not think, he fully understood, what he was offering.

Imposter-Tom pouted, regarding him. “Maybe in two-thousand, though? We’re immortal, master! Surely, only ever having the two, same souls as your mates will grow boring… And you could do everything to me- I’d not become scared!” Harry understood clearly, what he was alluding to. And, no, he did not appreciate the comment. Casting his eyes down, Death whispered “I’m sorry to have upset you, master... You love me, still?”

“ _Yes,_ ” he affirmed yet again. He didn’t know, how an eternal being could be this unsure about human emotions. Weren’t they kind of his job?

“Can I kiss you, then?” Unfocused eyes landed on him again and he was certain, Death was standing on his tippy-toes.

Rolling his eyes, Harry sighed “Why do you always want to do that, huh?” He didn’t mind, really. Not, when Death was so very good at kissing. Were Dementors good kissers, too?

“Everything else wastes away if I do! You’re the only one surviving my touch and kiss, master,” he huffed, not unlike Tom, before greedily pushing his lips against Harry’s. The latter gently kissed back, not wanting this to grow too heated. Meanwhile, the room seemed to heat up a little again. Maybe Death had some emotions, after all, and did not recognize them himself? The apprentice could not begin to care, as he was softly pushed into a table behind him, and his hair was caressed lovingly. Their kiss grew sloppy and wet, as his servant became a bit more demanding and made a little, needy noise.

Suddenly, the door to the classroom opened - not, that Death seemed to care - and a certain Death Eater entered. Barty, probably wide-eyed, stuttered “W-Well, this is awkward. Sunshine, didn’t you say you were going to- Wait…” Harry could almost hear the gears in Barty’s head moving, as he murmured “Why is he so… young? And why- Why is it so cold in here! What- What happened to my potions?! _Harry_!” Crouch seemed reasonably flustered at the state, his classroom was in. He had not yet put one and two together, it seemed. How would he? He had never encountered Death so far and Harry did not think he knew about his appearance.

With a great deal of convincing on his part, he pushed away Death a bit, who made an unhappy grumble at that and latched onto his neck. The sound didn’t seem to come out of his vocal cords, somehow. Harry used the chance to cough “E-Er… I am speaking to Death. Right now. Barty, this isn’t our Lord.” The horrified brother of his drew closer, as Harry urged fake Tom to turn his head around and stopped his kissing, showcasing his grey eyes. “And er… It’s just always cold when he’s here. He’s like a Dementor. Potions probably burst because of it, sorry…” he blushed again, but also had to smirk, as Barty took a few, cautious steps back again upon the realization, who this was.

“Kissing isn’t talking, brother.” He plainly stated, in shock.

Death used the time to wonder “Should I make him forget, master? He seems flustered.” He then stepped away from Harry and, with inaudible steps, crept up to Barty. The latter whimpered and walked backward again, as he took out his wand. “Human, a Patronus won’t work on me.” Barty’s tick showed upon his intention becoming known.

“Death, no, bad! I don’t want you to erase his memory. Just- go home. Go to Purgatory,” the former Savior ordered after teasing his secondary mate a bit, enjoying his horrified expression.

The being turned around, lighting up “Home? You see Purgatory as home? Oh, master!”

“Er… sure…” the Master of Death confusedly told him, not understanding the fuss much. “I’ll visit, sometime.”

“I know you will, master,” Death chirped, joyed, before he disappeared. His apparating wasn’t unlike Harry’s, really.

Crouch Jr stared at him, paler than the moon. “What the hell... “ Harry quickly came to his rescue and embraced his form, savoring his warmth in this cold environment. “Sunshine… Why did you kiss him!” Apparently, Barty was a bit jealous. Harry might have forgotten about that little fact.

So, as sweetly as he could, he answered “Barty, it’s okay. It’s only platonic and he doesn’t really understand, what it means. He can’t feel.”

“Oh, of course! Well, our kissing was platonic, too! And look, where it got us!” Barty didn’t become loud, trying to keep his voice down. Yes, maybe his smaller brother could see the irony.

“Then don’t be so flustered, brother. You’re no saint, either.”

Disapproving a bit, his lover pointed out “He’s not even human, Harry… That’s… That’s bound to be illegal!”

“Barty, first of all, we’re Death Eaters. Secondly, I’m not human, either. Don’t be a prude, master got over it, too. And it’s not like I’m about to get into his pants. Why would I? I have two mates. Three are far too time-consuming to care for. He’s only my over-ambitious servant, nothing more.” He played it down, however, touching his mate’s chin.

His lips a thin line, Barty grumbled “I was an over-ambitious servant once, too. And _I_ managed to get into my Lord’s pants. Somehow.”

“But you’re not a shapeshifting Dementor from hell. That makes kind of a difference, Barty,” he snickered and raised an eyebrow, but he knew it wasn’t enough to convince his lover. At his displeased facial expression, the smaller brother licked his lips “Should I prove to you, how much I fancy you? Your class is the first period tomorrow for me. Doesn’t matter if I’m a bit tired, there… And stumble out of your quarters. I am your teaching assistant, after all.” He suggestively wriggled his eyebrows at Barty, who got the idea inhumanly fast.

“So, beating you up didn’t tire you out yet, imp? You need your big brother to ruin you completely?” Barty produced a mild growl, which had Harry’s blood start to gather down south. He enjoyed Barty being kind of angry a bit too much, perhaps. It usually ended in bruises.

“You only won, because I let you,” Harry taunted him more for this purpose, as he withdrew and walked toward his quarters. “I’m the Master of Death, after all, and have the Elder Wand. Not even master could beat me if I wanted to.”

His Professor followed, clearly having an advantage by having Harry walk in front of him. “I don’t know, sunshine. Your screams sounded quite sincere. And your Imperiatus… tsk. Even my granny could have thrown that off.”

Harry pushed the door open, going inside the dark bedroom, lighting more candles. “I simply had mercy on you, Barty. I didn’t want to traumatize you.” He shrugged off his outer robes and, already, Barty was close enough to him, menacingly backing him into his bed. Once he hit the edge of it with the back of his legs, Barty reached for his red and gold tie, pulling at it. Showing his teeth, Harry proposed “Why don’t you let me fuck you tonight to show your gratefulness, hm?”  
“Such a big mouth for such a small brother, sunshine. Pretty daring,” he chuckled unimpressedly, making the tie uncomfortably tight. The younger one felt himself become excited at that. Leaning in, Crouch whispered “You may have a higher rank than me, but I’ve been here longer. I can play off hurting you as a means of teaching you our ways. Now, that my standing improved again. And, really, what do I have to fear, hm? What would stop me, baby brother? Lord’s Cruciatus, hm? He’d not kill me, you know that. Maybe I should teach you some manners.” Even if this was only playing - Harry wasn’t that sure, even - it still got him aroused.

“Y-You wouldn’t dare!” He defied the other, nonetheless, and struggled to get away to no avail. Barty was physically stronger than him and gripped his hips, catching him.

The latter smirked and pushed him onto the bed roughly, immediately towering over him and trapping him below himself. “I know you want me to, though. You know you want me to hurt you, sunshine. You like making me feel guilty for it, too.” Harry’s dark secret was out and he couldn’t help, but grind up into the weight on top of him. Barty lewdly thrust back into him, making him moan.  “Once I’m done with you, you won’t be walking anymore.”

“Please…” he whimpered, despite himself, and gently reached out toward Barty’s neck to pull him in closer. The latter happily obliged his need for closeness, ghosting over his lips with his own.

“Remember our first time?” He lovingly whispered, touching his mouth briefly. Harry eagerly nodded; he did. He had almost fainted, Barty taking such good care of him, worshipping his body. “Good. This time won’t be like that,” his mate darkly growled and bit his lower lip. Harry hissed an insult in Parsel at the other, licking over his them - he tasted copper. Barty regarded him weirdly for a second but then furrowed his brows in offence. “Oh, don’t you hiss at me like that. I know, what you’re saying, little brother.” He probably did not, Harry thought. But Barty already made quick work of his trousers, opening Harry’s belt and pulling them down. Or at least he tried to - it was kind of hard in their position. So, with an annoyed grumble, he ordered “Vanish the clothes. All of them.” It didn’t seem like his sibling was entirely patient today. Maybe he should not have riled him up this much.

Nevertheless, Harry was feeling very stubborn today, too. So he snickered “Hm, can’t the big, scary Professor do it himself?” He had a death wish.

“Make me and this will be even more unpleasant for you,” dark eyes landed on him, but Harry made no move to use his wandless magic.

“You’d never. You love me far too much, you idiot,” he mocked him again, which elicited a mad grin in the other. The latter took his left arm, forcing it to show its soft underside to him, as he pulled down his sleeve. “See? You’re going to make me feel go- Bar-” He went on teasing the other, thinking he had given up on his scheme already. But Harry quickly found that assumption to be incorrect, when he let out a shocked, betrayed shout upon nails digging into his Dark Mark.

“Oh? What was that, baby brother?” Barty kept on pressing into his Mark in a specific way, while his smaller mate squirmed around in pain below him. The pain was at least somewhat comparable to a Cruciatus, the Master of Death worriedly observed in his clouded mind. He had never known this to be a _feature._

Close to begging, he wheezed “W-What is this-” His Mark had only ever felt good, when it had been touched by his family. He felt betrayed, deeply so. Why was Barty’s touch on it feeling like that of a stranger? His breath hitched- wasn’t this Barty? But he felt like it…

“Oh…. just a safety feature to prevent tampering with it, built in by our foresightful Lord. Although he probably didn’t have this in mind…” While torturing, Barty leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth, stating huskily “Sunshine,  our Lord had me torture our siblings before, too. I know all our soft spots. You’re the idiot for provoking a torturer with over a decade of job-experience. Now say ‘ _I’m sorry, brother!’_ and vanish the clothes before I get up to get my wand. Or else you’ll experience, what my _real_ Cruciatus feels like.”

Scared, Harry believed every word of his. “I- I’m s-sorry, brother!”  He whimpered, not wanting to find out whether Barty really had been holding back until now. Immediately, the older one gave him a breather, which Harry used to fulfill his second request hastily. With a swish of his hand, they were stark naked.

“See, you still have so much to learn, sunshine.” Barty gently stroked over his Mark a bit, making him feel better again, as he trembled a little beneath him. “But you’re such a good brother, aren’t you? So eager to learn. Luckily, you have me,” he purred and kissed his tattoo once. His brother proceeded to get one leg between Harry’s, forcing them to spread. The former Savior reluctantly did as wished, but worried. While he could get behind a bit of pain like this, he prayed Barty would not go in unprepared. Crouch Jr must have seen his eyes anxiously shift between his face and his erect cock, Harry waiting for a hint. Barty warmly smiled, leaning in closer to his face again and softly placing a kiss on his lips. Lovingly, he assured him with a whisper “I wouldn’t do that, sunshine. If I go too far, tell me. It’s alright; I won’t be angry.” Insecurely, the apprentice chased after him and demanded more kisses, and his mate gave in, for the time being, breaking character for a bit. Meanwhile, a hand slipped downward, taking both of them, slowly jerking them off. Harry contently moaned into their kiss, a tongue invading his mouth at that and sliding against his own, as he bucked up rhythmically. He enjoyed rubbing against the warmer, bigger cock of his mate, which he knew would soon fill him and transform him into a blubbering mess. They went on in this fashion for a while, Harry calming down a bit again and less filled with anxiety. Instead, he became more needy, requiring more friction and something to fuck him. As his thrusts became more desperate, Barty deemed him sufficiently coddled and leaned back again, grinning, as he pushed three fingers into his mate’s mouth. The latter knew, what was expected and took them, slicking them up nicely. He suggestively curled his tongue around one of them, humming, as Barty stroked over his torso. He avoided touching the dark, unhealthy-looking area on it, which had grown a tad bit. Harry still needed to talk to his mates about that, but that could wait. So he tried to ignore the renewed worry in him - maybe this would be his last fuck if they felt disgusted enough by his transformation-to-come. Pushing the distress away, so Barty wouldn’t feel it through the incriminating bond of theirs or in the way, his magic constricted, he sucked on the fingers more wantonly.

“Keep on sucking like that and you’ll be in trouble,” his favorite breathlessly warned, pleasuring himself with slow, drawn out strokes and surely imagining a warm, wet mouth on it. Heeding his warning, Harry became a bit more innocent in his administrations, trying to wriggle around, so his mate would jerk him off, too. But he simply ignored it with a sly smirk. When the younger one tried to do it himself, then, his hand was swatted away and the fingers in his mouth left him, leaving him empty. Instead, Barty pulled at his hips to get him to a better position, propping him up on a pillow. Harry felt awfully exposed, as his legs were spread wider, too. He wondered, how Barty would fare as a bottom. He knew he had been with Tom, of course, but he just couldn’t imagine it. Possibly that was why it had failed in the end. “Sunshine, now’s not the time to be thinking. Or am I boring you, huh?” Before he could hurriedly decline - as he expected to be punished - a slick finger breached his entrance, burning and making his mind shut up. Nevertheless, Harry was glad since this meant they’d be doing the real deal soon. So he eagerly met the thrusts to make Barty proud of him again, instead of angry. He needed that fuzzy feeling of being loved and needed, appreciated.

He had seemingly achieved his goal, as his Professor took his length and stroked it firmly, making him squirm. “Mh- Barty…” he moaned, enjoying his more attentive personality, also. “Ah-” he made in pain, though, as a second finger pushed inside of him already. He pressed his head into the bed below him, helpless to it.

“Come on, brother, you can take it… I know you’re good like that, aren’t you?” His lover gently comforted him, but there was an underlining, challenging tone, too. Harry took the challenge, his pride still a bit injured. He was not weak like that! They had done this dozens of times - he was used to this! So the dark mage ignored the pain and instead kept on aiding Barty. At the same time, he marveled at the bare chest in front of him, baring some scars. Harry wondered, where those came from. He traced over them, which his mate seemed to approve of, as he made a happy, deep rumble upon that and quickly added a third finger, eager to go on, as well. When Harry hissed again, he growled “For your sake, I hope that was no insult.”

Mewling, he obediently whimpered “-It wasn’t!” Well, it had been, but luckily he was a good enough Occlumense to keep Barty out.

Crouch squinted his eyes, as he cupped his balls and squeezed a bit in a threatening manner. “Good, because I’d be very mad if it was. I’m taking such good care of you - despite you not deserving it today, sunshine - so you should be grateful,” he told him, voice icy. Well, Harry was grateful. He made that fact widely known through his groans, which had already become a bit louder by now. Barty used that as a sign to withdraw his fingers, sighing contently “But since you totally did not lie, mh… I suppose you are thankful.” He lifted his smaller lovers hips up a bit again, positioning himself in front of his entrance. But he did not push in just yet, instead caressing the insides of his thighs and waiting, as Harry wantingly gripped at the bedsheets.

He knew exactly, what was waited for and turned red. Somehow, Barty was very adamant on having the upper hand in the bedroom and being the more dominant one. So, despite his Gryffindor-pride, Harry whined “Please, Barty…”

“Please what, little brother?” Even then the older male kept on torturing him, shit-eating grin on his face. “You’ve got to be a bit more specific…”

The Master was desperate, so he complied “Please, fuck me, Barty-” It came out more miserable than he had intended it to be. Submitting somehow felt easier with Tom, he had observed. Even if he had no desire to reverse roles with Barty. “Please…” he pleaded again and finally, his mate fulfilled his wish, squeezing his butt once.

“You’re so pretty when you beg. You should do it more often,” his partner advised, before grabbing his hips and slowly sliding in. Too slowly, for Harry. But Barty had wisely chosen to trap his hips; otherwise, he’d have seen to Barty pushing in faster. After a long while, Harry was finally filled to the brim with a warm, throbbing cock, which had him unhappily wriggle around. It would hurt, but he wanted the other to move. With his movement greatly restricted, however, he could barely do anything. Not even, when Barty nuzzled his neck and kissed it. He seemed to search for a fitting spot to mark him, which he found a little below his neck. He bit into it possessively and Harry did not feel sure, how strongly he had done so. With little to do, but moan, he scratched along his Professors back, marking him somehow, too.

Hot, wet breath ghosted against his neck again, as his fellow Death Eater ordered “D-Don’t heal it.” For whatever reason, he seemed put off by something again.

Alarm-bells going off, Harry protectively breathed “S-Something wrong?” There better not be - he might die if the other didn’t go on soon.

He got no answer, but the other slid out of him relatively fast this time, only to fuck into him right away. Harry’s will to be worried momentarily left him, as he clung to Barty and whimpered in bittersweet pain. But his lover had other plans, finding his capability to thrust into him compromised by this. He took his siblings arms and pinned them above his head slightly, leaving the weaker one helpless, as he slid in and out of him. Grip tight on him, Barty hummed “Hm… Bet you’re mh- gonna be all bruised up again. How will you explain that to your ngh… dorm-mates, hm?” His older brother teased him again and gripped his wrists even tighter, not seeming so sorry anymore. This was Harry's punishment for angering him, he felt certain. “Purple ah- wrists, blue h-hips…” he set an unrelenting pace, still not willing to give up on his taunting. “They’ll all mh…  know, what we’re doing, sunshine…” The smaller one writhed beneath him, gasping.

If Harry had wanted to say something, he surely would have been unable to anyway. He tried to meet the other’s thrusts, wanting him to hit his special spot more often. He somehow had a harder time getting off as of late. Something, which hopefully wasn’t connecting to his body failing. If he could _never_ cum again, once it was completely dead… Merlin. Tom and Barty might just die or spontaneously combust if they could not sleep with him anymore. Because the other, obvious option was impossible as of yet.

“Love, your ability to think of death and our demises while being fucked by someone, is truly astonishing,” an amused voice called from somewhere in the room, Harry feeling too disoriented and breathless to locate it, really. Above him, Barty stuttered in his movements, suddenly holding his breath and freezing. Harry tried to push back into him, motivating him.

“M-My Lord…” he croaked, like some sort of dying animal. He seemed to be torn between filling his need and being worried about Tom being - for whatever reason - in his room. “U-Uh…” Below him, Harry blushed and felt on display again. Tom had seen him naked millions of times, but this was different.

Steps came closer and Harry realized, Tom had come inside through the door leading to the classroom. “Well, go on. I’m certainly not stopping you.” Harry now saw his husband, innocence in person, holding his hands up. He wasn’t even blushing at Barty and him being in the middle of sleeping with each other, in a rather compromising postion. “If I minded, I’d not be here…” he added at that and Harry asked himself, whether this was Death, after all. But it wasn’t, by the way, he felt their bond aching to be with Harry and red eyes skimmed him over, stopping at his flushed cock. Upon his hungry look, Harry could not help it twitching.

“This is s-so wrong…” Barty breathed out in shock but moved. Harry looked him into the eyes ‘ _Of all the fantasies- Why?’_ The Master of Death wanted to chuckle, but his chuckle transformed into another groan, as the reluctant movements grew quicker and surer again.

“Don’t be a prude, Bartemius,” Riddle hummed and - to Harry’s dazed wonder - drew even closer to the bed. He wasn’t about to join in, was he? But no, he made no move to do so. Inspecting, what they were doing, he huffed “And don’t break my mate, either!” He clearly did not approve of all the bruises and a bit of blood sticking to his husband or the brutal pace of Barty. Otherwise, though, he seemed pleased. He watched them like some kind of art-critic, evaluating their handy-work.

The apprentice could not help, but questioningly whine “Mh- master…?” His husband smiled at him, but he could feel apprehension radiating off of him again. Barty seemingly did not enjoy Harry’s attention shifting to his husband, as he began jerking him off to have him focus on him again. For that purpose, he finally let his wrists go, which allowed Harry to cling to him again. Gripping at his shoulders, Harry saw the Gaunts’ ring on his left hand, which he found to be quite morbid. Riddle meanwhile forced himself to touch Barty’s shoulder blades, which had the latter shudder in guilty pleasure. It only got worse, when Tom let his hand drag downward over his spine, maybe scratching him with his nails. It cost him a great deal of bravery, the apprentice felt, muddied through his own lust clouding his mind. Tom went through the motion two or three more times, fascinated by his own actions, which soon reduced Barty to a hopeless, frantically moving mess. Apparently, he was getting his hopes up again or something similar - Harry didn’t care to dig deeper - which only made him more aroused. In the end, he came with a less than manly sounding whine, his thrusts growing short and irregular, which had Tom recoil his hand with distressed sentiments. Harry, meanwhile, still was having a few problems himself with coming, but being filled with hot cum elevated those, making him lewdly moan and orgasm, as well. As his insides clenched up, Barty produced a broke groan and shuddered, unable to give much more. Exhausted from this and the earlier duel, he simply let himself collapse on top of the smaller frame, just so managing to slip off him a bit. Cocky, he still remarked  to Tom “Can’t believe you’re not h-hard…”

Hiding his true reasons, Riddle tsked “You’re underestimating your allure greatly, Barty. I have seen you naked more often than I care to admit; your body surely did not grow more interesting over time. And, in contrast to you, I don’t get off on seeing my husband suffer.”  Elegantly, he sat down at the edge of the bed, next to Harry’s head, and stroked through his unruly hair. “Just look at him…” he sounded very accusing.

“He deserved it, though. Had to teach him a big mouth isn’t good,” Crouch defended himself and stubbornly began petting his lover’s side, who wasn’t mad about the two patting him at all. He loved this sort of after-care. He liked to be cared for.

Sarcastically, Tom scoffed “I sure hope you don’t teach all of your students like this, otherwise, I’ll have to remove you from this institution.” There was no real venom behind that, just friendly banter.

“At least I don’t burst in on them fucking!” Harry’s Professor grumbled, not getting it and pulling the former closer by his middle and away from Tom. Harry did not mind, as long as someone cuddled him.

“You’re not my student, Bartemius,” Tom cocked his head, smiling again. Harry liked that, so he reached out to his husband with one arm, taking his hand. It was squeezed gently, a finger sliding over his ring.

Pouting, the Death Eater reminded “Not anymore…”

“Not anymore, yes…” their master solemnly repeated, ruby eyes declining to look at either of them. ‘ _That ended, when you decided to drug me as a means of… of… Ugh.’_ The apprentice squeezed his mate’s hand, then listening in secretly. But, surely, Tom knew now. ‘ _I hate this.’_

‘ _Remember, what you promised. You should talk to him, Tom. Well… I have to talk to you, too, anyway.’_ Harry spoke to his mate in the privacy of their heads, but Barty certainly knew of that, also.

‘ _Please, you first.’_

Harry smiled at him, even if he was not looking at him. So, being strong for his husband, Harry declared “Can we… talk about, what Death told me? It’s kind of important.” Behind him, his lover tensed, clearly not up to it. Nevertheless, Tom nodded, which was all the confirmation he needed. Not, that he didn’t know already, anyway. Harry quickly dressed himself and Barty - he did not think them being naked was very appropriate right now. Simple boxers and shirts would do for now. They’d sleep later, anyway.  “He confirmed it. My body is dying, turning undead. He doesn’t know, how long it will take, but he said it would be completely transforming soon and it wouldn’t be… easy. My organs are failing already,” he slowly recapped, hoping they would not freak out. At least Tom seemed composed and finally regarded him. No feeling of disgust came his way, only pity.

Barty said “W-Well… at least that explains, why your blood tasted so… interesting.” Suddenly, Harry got why he had looked so weirded out before. He couldn’t imagine rotting flesh and blood to taste well, either. “Did he say anything else? Why this is happening, sunshine?” He also seemed more worried, than turned off. A giant weight was lifted off of Harry’s shoulders. At least his mates were there to support him.

He’d only need to see if this would stay the same after the next revelation. “He told me I’d still function well and look alive, too. I guess it’s not too bad… The reason for this, er…” He stocked in his explanation. “Because I’m the Master of Death, we have a er… soul-bond. He doesn’t know, how far it goes. Will go, really. It might merge the two of us fully, maybe it will just exchange a certain portion of our souls. Daily, we exchange more; that’s for sure... That’s also why I’m getting more of his powers, too, and why my body is dying. It simply can’t house Death. It dies because of his soul in me.” Harry’s mood was effectively ruined. It couldn’t get worse.

Tom, who probably knew most about bonds and magic out of the three of them, sighed “It’ll be fine. It has to be. We’ve… been through worse.” He seemed oddly optimistic for once. ‘ _At least I’ll never have to see you die again.’_

Barty shivered and drew shapes into Harry’s abdomen, still wary of the patch. “Will your personality change? What if…” He stopped talking, not wanting to voice his concern fully.

Harry saw Tom’s eyes shift toward Crouch, reading him, “I don’t think Harry could ever change so much he’d abandon us, Barty, no. And, as of yet, only his magical aura changed and separated a bit from mine. This has been going on for five months soon. If he would be changing because of this, shouldn’t it have started long ago?” The young Death Eater did not like being talked about, instead of spoken to. He wasn’t a test subject!

Also- “M-My aura separated from yours!?” Breath hitching, he investigated his own, magical field. But it was still steadily connected to Tom’s and a bit to Barty’s.

“Not noticeably if you’re not hyper-aware of it. But, clearly, you became infused with some of that… thing’s magic. I can’t use it at all, it’s just... there, all around you. I’d call that separation. We’re supposed to entirely share our magic, love.” His Lord sounded displeased, worn out, even. Harry had left him alone for a few days - he probably had not slept again.

Harry tried to sense it with his master’s guidance, but it was hard. There was something foreign about himself, but it seemed to belong there at the same time.  However, his concentration was ruined, as Barty again questioned “And what do we do if he’s starting to hurt? I… I have _no_ clue on the undead. I just know how to kill them, not how to care for them! What if he gets ill…” His protectiveness seemed to kick in full force, as he shuddered again and clung to his smaller mate.

“You don’t have to have a clue; I do,” Tom curtly responded, but clearly worried about the same thing. Harry did, too. But for other reasons. He did not want to be a burden to the two of them, did not want to hurt them emotionally. He knew they all depended on each other. The two couldn’t help each other out when he was gone.

But, apparently, this had somehow offended Barty, who now sat up. “How can you be this- this unaffected! You don’t- Do you even care for any of this?” He accused the Dark Lord, at which Harry sat up, as well, worried this would escalate. When Tom retorted nothing, he snapped “You- You didn’t even care, when he bloody died; you were just sorry for yourself and being a fucking Squib! O-Or when you just send him to sleep with me! Or this evening! You’re always fucking indifferent to it!” He seemed livid and laid a possessive arm around Harry’s middle.

“B-Barty, no-” Harry whimpered, touching his boyfriend. He was misinterpreting this completely! Tom wasn’t indifferent; he simply did not show his emotions and kept up his public persona.

But his favorite did not listen in his jealous worry, growling “Harry, no! Just- How can’t you care! He’s all, that matters and you just… You just say ‘ _Shut up, Crouch! It’ll be fine. This is none of your concern, hurr durr!’_ What is wrong with you? I-” His voice broke, turning desperate “ -I thought you changed!” What was that about?

Tom made no move to stop his rambling or punish him. Harry felt him being simply too tired to fight. Staring at the door opposite of the bed, he neutrally said “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not!” Barty shouted right back, despite Harry’s best efforts to calm him down. “You’re always… You’re always cold a-and all diplomatic! You only ever flip out if your plans fail! None of what you say or- or do is honest! You always have some idiotic plan or goal- Why are you even here, huh? Why did you even touch me or call me ‘Barty’ or all these- all this bullshit! You don’t mean it… You don’t mean any of this.”

Horrified, Harry worried either of them was going to attack. The air around them was toxic, magic in conflict, a bubble building up to combust. How long had this been coming? Their first time together? Harry’s death? Hogwarts? Ministry… Harry felt bad for not having seen this sooner, like a bad mate. This could and probably _would_ ruin all of their progress. They had worked on this for ages.

Tom could attack Barty, apparate, torture him through the Mark, but none of that happened. He seemed to only sit there and not care. That was, until he turned around, tears streaming down his face. Hissing, he cried “I’m not- I’m not an unfeeling monster! I- Y-You have no idea, what you’re talking about!” Behind Harry, Barty took in a shaky breath. “None- Simply nothing of t-this is true!”

“Master…”

“Do you- Do you maybe want to see all my memories? H-How I was… raped, perhaps? Would that fucking convince you? Or how I… I thought o-of ways to find my god-forsaken Horcruxes and… and kill myself, when Harry died?” Tom sobbed and Harry could feel his hopelessness reach him, too. “Maybe I should… show you ho-how I worried about him leaving me for you? Or my c-constant nightmares? Would that convince you, how much I care? How much I love a-and… How afraid I am?” He slowly fought to regain his composure, not wanting to cry that much in front of them. Hollow, he whispered “Or maybe I should show you, how I felt after I woke up to your face and you _peacefully_ looked at me, while I was panicking from that familiar pain? And how much w-worse it got, when you laid on the floor… bleeding and- and begging me to s-stop… to not kill you...”

He turned away again, his magic dangerously continuing to spasm like it was going to break apart entirely. Carefully, Harry shifted closer to him and embraced him from behind, abandoning his mate, who was not crying. He didn’t know, how to help. This was between Barty and Tom.

Meanwhile, Barty seemed to be caught in a stupor. Nevertheless, he knew he had to do something, probably. He shifted closer, as well, but proceeded to go further than Harry and sat on the edge of his bed, next to the troubled man. Softly, he asked “Why… why haven’t you ever told me? Or shown? Why… did it take two decades to- to tell me, you were raped? And all this other stuff…”  He saw his mistake, but did not outright apologize.

“I was afraid.” Tom simply answered, but that in itself was justification enough. “I’ve made many mistakes because of fear.” Harry knew that and understood the sentiment, leaning against his husbands back for support, which he could not really give.

Crouch Jr let out a heavy breath, trying to come up with a solution. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I… none of this should have happened.” He started with an apology for his prior actions. “If you’re not okay with me be-”

“It’s okay. You could not have known,” Tom saw his own mistakes, but his husband also felt him being too exhausted to fight again. That was probably in all of their favors. Meekly, he added “Barty… if this-” he motioned between the two of them “-is supposed to work, you have to stop accusing me of not feeling. And… don’t expect me to be the strong one. Because I’m not. I make mistakes.” Harry tightened his grip on him, so very proud of his husband. They had worked on him being open for so long and it finally seemed to work out.

The older Death Eater carefully put a hand on his master’s arm, the other barely reacting. “I pledged my undying loyalty to you, have you forgotten about that? It’s okay if you make mistakes, it is my job to protect you. And Harry, too. I may not be the Master of Death or a Dark Lord, but I’m still going to try. But that doesn’t work out if you don’t start trusting me again and telling me stuff. My Lord, I’m not a teen anymore. I’m not the moron, I once was… Uh, mostly. I’d never hurt you again - without reason - and not just, because I don’t want Harry to be sad.” His promise was grave, but exactly what the other two needed. “Please, if you’re willing to show me all that stuff, _do._  Not all in one go and surely not today, but do. Let’s be fucked up together.”

“You put it so very nicely, Barty,” Tom actually snorted at that and wiped over his eyes again. “But yes, let’s try. Again. Three times’s a charm.” He proceeded to yawn and Harry felt Tom’s control over his Glamour slip away, revealing his slightly disheveled looks. “For today, though… Let’s just sleep. That is if you don’t want me to die of exhaustion.”

As Harry saw Barty’s confused looks, he gently added “Barty, master has been having nightmares since my death. He barely gets any sleep.” He didn’t blame him for not knowing - Tom had only briefly mentioned it in his tirade. Feeling his husbands approval to go on, he said “It’s about the orphanage. Magical means don’t help much, but I’m trying to search for Muggle stuff right now.”

Slightly amused, Crouch hummed “My Lord, you’re going to let something Muggle be used on you?”

“If it helps me sleep, sure…” On second thought, he defeatedly added “ Barty, stop calling me your Lord; it’s annoying in private.” The Dark Lord sighed and vanished his fancy, outer robes, at which Harry let go of him.

Barty joked “What else should I call you? Your Highness?”

As the exhausted mage laid down in the middle of the bed, Harry next to him, he hummed “No, I guess Tom will do, you dim-witted runt. Ugh, don’t look so cocky. Even my bloody snake gets to call me by my father’s name.” Nagini and Snow did not, but Barty did not need to know that. Still, Barty seemed to swell with pride, as he completed the dark-mage-sandwich with Tom in the middle. Harry did not think this was very thought through - Tom would become scared in the morning. “No, love. This is perfectly thought through. If I sleep next to the wall, I’ll be claustrophobic. If I sleep on the other side, I’ll fall out of bed. If I sleep here, Barty will be the one to fall. That’s fine.”

The older sibling did not seem to care about that much and snaked an arm around the tired, dark-haired man. This time, he met little resistance, although Harry was not sure, why. Maybe Tom was too tired to react, maybe the talk had rebuilt some unsteady trust. Barty meanwhile tested out his new ability “ _Tom_ … Tom… Hm, it’s nice not being in pain. What’s your middle name again?”

Grumbling, he was answered “Marvolo, and the last name is Riddle. You know that! It’s not like you have never been at my family’s residence.” Through their bond, the master of Death heard ‘ _I shouldn’t have allowed him to use it. Love, why didn’t you stop me?’_ Harry wordlessly kissed his cheek. His master had thought the same thing with him once.

“Yeah, and it would be a pretty nice residence if you hadn’t killed them all, _Tom._  Why did you, by the way?” Barty went on prying, now that he could. “You know… since we’re already sharing secrets and stuff.”

Huffing, Tom pointed out “You haven’t been telling me a lot of secrets, really. Also, I thought you were bright.” Sheepishly, Barty stroked over his belly once, eliciting a displeased tone this time. “Surely, you have figured stuff out. Let’s see how far the rumors have come, hm?”

Harry contently closed his eyes and cuddled with his husband. This was ideal. Tom and Barty chatting, without him having to keep an eye on them. Crouch Jr uncertainly told him “Well… I know you’re a Gaunt. Because that’s not your last name, though, I suppose your mother was the Gaunt. She died, I know that. And Riddle… that’s not a pureblood family, I know. But if he had that residence, he must have been rich. And somehow, your father must have fucked up for you to land in an orphanage.”

“Close,” Riddle hummed, half asleep. How couldn’t he in a soft, warm bed, cuddled up to two people? “Riddle isn’t even a wizard family.”

“It’s a fake name, then? O-Or… were you adopted?” The Dark Lord laughed at his innocent guesses but shook his head. “Uh… Was your father a mudblood…?” Now, Barty seemed truly worried to be hurt again, simply for the suggestion.

“Worse…” Tom sighed, wanting to sleep.

“You’re not saying-”

So he made it quick and affirmed “He was a Muggle. I’m a half-blood. Surprise...! Now let me sleep.” He closed his eyes to signal his unwillingness to debate the matter further.

“This has to be a joke…” Barty breathed out in worry, possessing the audacity to let go of the other’s middle and to poke his cheek instead, so he would not sleep yet. “You can’t be a half- No! Just… My whole existence…”

Tom caught the affronting arm by its wrist, disapproving “Don’t be overdramatic and get over it. It’s not like you have ever cared for blood-status, anyway… You can still keep on killing people and torturing them for fun, so stop sulking. Sleep.” With that said, he turned toward Harry but took the arm with him, making it curl around him. His irrational side wasn’t happy about it, but he did not seem to care. Harry thought this might have been a brilliant idea, too. This way, Tom would see Harry upon waking up, but Barty could touch him. A temporary, but good fix. Or perhaps he was being too optimistic again.

“Two half-bloods in my bed… the Dark Lord would want me to kill them, “ Barty tsked and dared to nuzzle the black hair in front of him, only to have their master try to shift away a bit and into Harry more.

“The Dark Lord wants you to fall asleep and shut up,” the Lord spoken to growled, tired of him and mildly tense. Harry hoped Barty would not push his husband too far already.

Those hopes were crushed. “Or else?” 

“Essential body parts go missing overnight.”

“ _Oh._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my stuff and for the kudos! <3


	5. To sit on a frozen lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has some trouble facing his change, while his family is hunted down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uff, almost didn't make it this week! School is a bit stressful, but don't worry I'll always try to post once a week! After all, I love all of you~

 

**Chapter 5**

**To sit on a frozen lake**

* * *

* * *

 

Harry awoke to a shocked shout and a loud thud, which had his head snap up in horrified reflex and summon his wand to him. Were they being attacked? But upon closer inspection, it had only been Barty, who was not on the bed anymore. “Told you this was thought through…” Tom shakily murmured, not all that fazed to have made Crouch fall out of his own bed. He had sat up half-way. Through their link, Harry felt the intoxicating rush of adrenaline in Tom, who stared numbly at the man scrambling up next to the bed. 

The latter was clearly flustered, whining in frustration “I was only trying to calm you down!” Apparently, Barty had woken up from the other having his nightmares. Harry felt rather guilty for not having done so, as well. He completely blamed it on the exhausting day, yesterday. 

“By hugging me? Not a good idea. You should know that by now,” his husband pointed out to him but did not go further in his explanation. He then stretched, trying to calm himself down with that, and contently wrapped himself around his husband again, who placed a gentle kiss on his lips. To Harry, he whispered “Good morning, love. Sorry, I woke you up.” 

Smiling, the apprentice admitted “Hm, I don’t mind. This is better than sleeping in my dorm, either way. I love you…” Riddle murmured something unintelligible back, before kissing him again and contently humming, as his middle was embraced and pulled closer. 

That seemingly put off Barty for multiple reasons, who understandably felt left out and unfairly treated. At least he sounded quite huffy when he said “I’m here, too, you know! Also, it’s almost time for first period- If we don’t get up now, there’ll be no breakfast. Winky!” Immediately, a small elf apparated into the room, already knowing the order to come. “Sorry, sweetie, but I’ll need you to snatch us some quick breakfast again.” 

“And coffee…” Tom sheepishly called from behind Crouch Jr, only Harry being able to see his slight blush. He tried to kiss it away for him, at which his mate only shuffled closer.

“Of course, masters. Winky is happy to do so!” She chirped and vanished again, while Barty hurried around his room in search of his clothes, not minding Tom’s odd request. Maybe he knew of his love for the Muggle beverage. 

“Sunshine, where did you vanish my clothes and wand to…?” He finally asked the Master of Death, when he found nothing and he couldn’t manage to summon his clothes without a wand, either. 

The unmotivated student pried himself away from his husband, who had completely other intentions right now; he wanted to cuddle. “Hm.... probably to Purgatory, sorry. Here-” he let his stuff reappear right in Barty’s arms, who did not appreciate that piece of information and flinched visibly upon it reappearing suddenly. 

“My bloody clothes were in the afterlife?!” He called out in shock, but pulled his wand out of a pocket of his black Death Eater robes. He then went to his dresser to get normal clothes, which would not get his students all chatty and excited. 

“Well, not really. They were in Limbo, it’s not the afterlife just yet. So, don’t worry, it’s fine. Master’s Horcrux is there, too, and it’s okay,” he sleepily rasped, only for his other partner to tense now. Before he could ask, the Necromancer explained “Well, what place could be safer? And it’s together with your other soul-pieces. Don’t worry, Death won’t do anything with it.”

Trying not to let his horrified emotions show, Riddle told him “...It’s yours, in the end. You can do with it, whatever you want...” Meanwhile, the Crouch house-elf reappeared with some toast and set it on a desk. While Crouch dressed, he took one and simultaneously ate it, which had Harry giggle, when he almost stumbled. Sometimes, the former Savior thought he was doing stuff like that on purpose.

“Sunshine, if you’re too late to my class, I’ll take House Points away. Especially, since you’re literally ten steps away from being there. Get dressed!” He mumbled with a full mouth, barely comprehensible. With a dramatic whine, the student climbed out of bed, but lazily magicked himself dressed and clean, taking something to eat and drink, too. He wasn’t all that motivated. Emotional conflict always made him tired. Also, each day brought him closer to Death in every way imaginable.

“I don’t want to train some boring defense spell, though…” he told his teacher at that. He knew most of the stuff he needed to  _ ‘survive’ _ , anyway. While he loved Barty being his Professor, that hardly made DADA more interesting. In reality, it became more tedious since he had to restrain himself from touching his lover.

There, Barty lit up, however. “It’s not going to be boring, brother! I actually planned ahead this time! Remember, when I was gone a few days ago?” Harry nodded. Barty had been gone all Sunday, which he had not appreciated. He had wanted to sneak off with him and do…  _ very appropriate things _ . “I was at Azkaban and uh… borrowed one of the Dementors.”   
“Let me guess, you stuffed him in your special box like Moody?” The Master of Death unhappily eyed said chest, while the other enthusiastically nodded.

“We’ll try to practice the Patronus today. That’s bound to be interesting, even to you,” Professor Crouch seemed quite proud of himself, while Tom struggled to untangle himself from the bedsheets and have something to eat, as well. 

But, Harry had to disappoint him. “Barty, I have been able to cast a Patronus since 3rd year. Also, I don’t think I can allow you to handle one of Death’s children like this. I have a responsibility to protect them, you know? E-Even if they’re kinda scary…” He didn’t fear them as much as he had once, but they were still some of the scariest creatures, he knew. “And… they kind of were my Boggart for a few years, so... “ 

The other Death Eater was disappointed at that. Nevertheless, he asked “What’s your Patronus like? And why a Dementor? You weren’t… attacked by one, right?” The former Azkaban prisoner was positively dismayed at that, having first-hand experience. Harry liked how open he displayed his concerns and love for him. Tom eyed him, a secret pout on his lips.

“It’s a stag, like my father’s. And my Boggart was a Dementor because I met one in my third year. And, yeah… it tried to kiss me. I became scared of them afterward and Lupin taught me the Patronus.” At the memory of that, he wanted to visit the werewolf again, even if he had seen him last month.  “It was pretty difficult.” 

Now smiling in sympathy, Barty told him “ Sorry, you had to go through that. No one should, especially not someone innocent, brother.” 

“It’s fine, really. It made me stronger, I think. I mean, it definitely was one of the hardest spells I could do at the time. I bet it’ll be hard for the others to learn,” he contemplated. Through the Dementors, he had learned to face his baser fears, the abstract ones. Of Voldemort, he had never really been afraid. He had been more hateful toward him than anything. His husband, drinking coffee, cast an apologizing glance toward him. The only time he had been afraid, had been at the graveyard. But there it had been the promise of death, which had horrified him.

His teacher shrugged simply, not minding. “They voluntarily chose my class and not knowing might kill them one day. I don’t expect them to cast a corporal one after one hour, brother. Anything would be fine. But… I don’t want them to be helpless. It’s my responsibility to teach them, I’m not just a spy like Sev.” While he did actually disclose enough information to Tom about the students, he was mainly there to help out Harry, the latter thought. 

But the former begged to differ “You are supposed to find out, who might be a good addition to our family. Strengthening possible opposition won’t help us much, I’m afraid.”

Pained expression on his face, the servant sighed “Tom, they’re children. At least those below 6th year are for the most part. If anything, they’re fucking scared; they’re not on any side. They aren’t all Harrys, who are powerful as hell. I’d… protect them as much as I would a sibling. I’m okay with teaching them our values, but I’ll never train a wand on a child.” Maybe, this had been a debate before. Harry had never heard it, though. Although, Tom had pointed out he was unwilling to kill any children, also. Nowadays.

“I didn’t say-” Riddle became frustrated at the accusing undertone. “I didn’t say you were supposed to slaughter them! Just… they will grow up at one point and if they do, they’re dangerous and will be used by the other side. The older ones are lost to us, so don’t bother teaching them too much. They know we’re in control, but are loyal to the old system. We’ll focus on the 1st and 2nd years’, they’re still open to us. Well… maybe the 6th year is also alright to be taught since they know Harry. But the rest? They are the next resistance fighters and Aurors in training!” 

Meekly, Harry wondered “But… it’s not like we’re a dictatorship, which needs to be stopped. I think we’ve been fairly nice to everyone…” They really had been. They had implemented new laws, most of them objectively good. 

Cold, Tom scolded him “Love, you’re a fool for believing that. I’ll blame it on your age and education, though. The people barely matter on their own, they’re just… masses, waiting to be used and told, what they ought to think. There is no ‘ _ good’ _ or ‘ _ bad’ _ government, really. There are only powerful ones, which are backed by those masses and able to control them, or weak ones, which aren’t. We have to get them on our side, before someone else does, or at least keep them weak. Do you think, we’d have been able to make the Ministry fall if the people hadn’t wanted it? Everyone knew it was corrupt and weak - or at least  _ thought _ it was, because we made them believe in it!” His apprentice blushed a dark shade of red, seeing his naive mistake. “The people don’t think for themselves, they don’t plan coups! They believe the first guy to seem scary, or charismatic and strong. Then it only takes some bribing and infiltrating to make the opposing group seem unstable and, like sheep, the masses start to accept the stable, strong group out of fear. We’ve already completed that step, of course. So now it’s time to make them accept us out of loyalty and not fear. The latter isn’t sustainable. It only takes one ‘ _ Savior’ _ to make us fall. Someone nice, who’s backed by someone not-so-nice with money and interests, which differ from ours.”

Harry became worried upon that, realizing something “So… was I supposed to be the nice Savior?” 

Snorting, Tom called “Of course you were! The damned Prophecy was just a sideshow, love. Although, you can call yourself lucky in any event. You always had money. Maybe, through that, you could have defeated me - had you been older, too. You could have bribed people yourself, done the same thing. If it hadn’t been the case… you would have died or the Ministry would have become dark again after my fall through some other person. Who would have supported you, hm? Economy is and always was on our side; they like us for giving them free reign, not controlling them. Where did you think all my money came from? Before my coup, I was broke. And Malfoy’s money, or the Blacks’... In comparison to them, the Crouches for example pale. Just look at Barty’s father, the law-abiding citizen - well, mostly. He’s not rich like us.” 

Huffily, Barty declared “Hey! I- I’m not some kind of hobo! My family has money, too. At least I have a fancy mansion, unlike you two. If you’re not nice, I’ll go there without you in summer!” Clearly, his family’s wealth was a soft spot of his.

His smaller brother smirked, but knew what he was trying to do. He didn’t want Tom to go too far and make Harry feel insecure about his alliances or something else. Not, that he was. This only solidified them. The Dark Side wasn’t evil with that logic and he felt better about them overtaking the Ministry. If it was all about money, what was there to feel guilty about? Money did not matter, once they were dead. Other things were far more important.

Tom must have read Barty’s intentions, as well, chuckling “Tsk, as if you could stop me from having a summer vacation! Also, I could buy myself three mansions if I wanted to, but I don’t. Living in yours is far more efficient.” After a moment of silence, Tom broke it again “, Anyway, I think I’ll stay here for a bit today. I have nothing to do. And maybe the library here has something of value on the care of the undead, which I don’t know yet.” 

Weakly smiling again, Barty nodded “Sure, I won’t stop you. If you find something, I should probably read it, too.” Outside, they suddenly heard the sound of people walking into the classroom, happily chatting. Their Professor pretended to sob upon hearing them “Well, guess it’s torture-time. My trustworthy assistant, follow me!” With that said, Barty used his wand to levitate the chest behind them, as they stepped out of the room and walked down the stairs. Immediately, the students went silent and watched on in confusion. Especially the Gryffindors, who had surely noticed Harry missing all night. Awkwardly, Harry remembered he probably had a few hickeys on his neck and his wrists were bruised, as well. But no one would dare to ask, anyway, and he could simply lie about it, saying it had been Tom. 

As Barty walked to the front of class, Harry leaned against his Professor’s table. He mildly blushed, when Ron regarded him and slowly shook his head in disappointment. Crouch seemed to see their little exchange and slyly mocked “Mister Weasley, I would appreciate it if you didn’t flirt with my assistant, at least not in class. Thank you.” Ron turned a deep pink, Seamus hitting him, as he laughed. “Maybe, we could start class now?” Crouch passive-aggressively pointed toward his chatting students, who more or less stopped their talking. Over time, they had all grown to like and respect Barty. “Great. We’re going to start a new topic today, as you know,  and this time, it’ll actually become dangerous. So I’d appreciate it if you’d be careful. The new topic is the Patronus Charm, which you were supposed to read about. Can any of you guess, what I brought with me today?” Barty proceeded to point at the chest, which was eerily quiet. Harry had to wonder, how it had not frozen up already. He couldn’t even feel the creature inside of it; his brother must have placed some rather difficult concealment charms on it - originally for Moody, perhaps, and now refined. 

Draco raised his hand first and answered “Maybe a Boggart? I mean, we could use Harry to create a Dementor with it.”  _ Of course _ , Malfoy would remember that little detail, Harry thought. Some Slytherins regarded him smugly for a second, but then remembered he was on their side, now, stopping with a guilty expression on their faces. 

But Barty shook his head “No, but close. It is a real Dementor; got him straight from Azkaban.  _ Just _ for you!” Multiple people started to pale and regard the chest in mortification. Apparently, they should not have mocked Harry for his fear at all, those hypocrites. “So, who of you can produce anything, which could be interpreted as a Patronus?” No hand raised and everyone became intensely interested in their notes and books. “Have you ever tried before?” Their teacher questioned, slightly annoyed. When some nodded, he softly guessed “Maybe you just didn’t think of something happy enough? Weasley, you nodded. What have you been thinking about?” 

Shocked to be called out in front of everyone, Ronald stammered “U-Uh… I thought a-about asking out my girlfriend and her saying yes.” Harry smiled fondly.

Professor Crouch contemplated that, agreeing “Thinking of someone you love and want to protect is a good choice. What has everyone else been thinking about?” He started randomly picking students, then. Most said something similar or stated it was to get some kind of present or price for something. “Hm… And none of you produced a Patronus? Either your memories aren’t strong enough, or you aren’t picturing them vividly enough. I guess it’s the former. You should think about it again-”

“But, Professor!” Neville called and interrupted him, knowing full well, Barty would be going easy on him. The latter regarded him sheepishly, as he wondered “Could you tell us about your memory? If you can cast a Patronus, i-it must be better, somehow.” 

Barty uneasily shifted around on his feet, although Harry presumably was the only one to notice his discomfort. Reluctantly, he confessed “Before I was sent to Azkaban, I usually uh… thought about my mom. But exposure to Dementors can alter and weaken happy memories since they feed on them, only leaving the bad ones. I can’t remember her very well, nowadays, so I have to use other memories. Nowadays, I usually think about my favorite, little sibling.” His expression became light and dorky again, as he pointed right at Harry, the latter feeling all giddy inside again. “What do you think about, huh? If it’s not me, I’ll take another hundred points away, brother,” he warned the Master of Death, who was caught off guard by this. His classmates laughed at their little banter.  _ They knew _ .

“Er… it’s hard to explain. At first, I thought about my first time on a broom, but that was too little. Being told I was a wizard, though, did the trick for me. I haven’t cast a Patronus in ages, however. Maybe it’s time for something else; it’s not my happiest memory anymore.” He tried to stay vague, but everyone regarded him expectantly, so he weakly admitted “I suppose I’d think about people I love, now. Like my husband, or, if we are speaking platonically, you.” His remark was redundant, though. Nobody in the room believed their relationship was platonic, anyway. Although he always told them that was just wishful thinking if they confronted him.

“I hope you aren’t just saying that to get better grades,” his Professor huffed, not completely convinced. “Anyway, enough talking for now. Harry, why don’t you show everyone your Patronus, hm? It’s better than reading a boring chapter in our textbook again,  _ or _ for the first time.” There, everyone lit up again - they loved demonstrations. Although the Death Eater had to wonder, whether he had not demonstrated enough yesterday in the Dueling Club.

Simply shrugging, Harry stood up and drew his wand, waiting for his lover to open the chest. Immediately upon him doing so, a dark, ghostlike creature levitated out of it, making the temperature drop. Without much hesitation, it tried to go after Barty, either because he had trapped it or because of his past. But Harry didn’t appreciate this very much and cast his Patronus against the unholy creature, which was technically one of his. He simply hoped Death would not mind too much. Thinking of Barty, Tom, and himself being together, a  silvery light danced out of his wand - the Master of Death felt lucky to still be able to cast his Patronus as a Dark Wizard - but it transformed into something far smaller than his stag. Confusion visible, Harry regarded a small, fox-like creature jumping out of his wand and eagerly running up to the Dementor. It wasn’t very menacing, more cute, really, as it pounced the creature and saved Barty, who was already twitching to take his wand. The dark ghost seemed equally as confused as the Master of Death, when the small light-creature tackled him and forced him back into the chest. Harry thought, the Dementor had a slightly betrayed expression on his face, which only he could see. Frowning, he declared “Weird, it changed. It always used to be a stag…” He knew there was a chance of Patronuses changing, of course, but he had not expected it. 

While the class politely applauded him, his favorite sibling turned toward him. His face was a mixture of worry and something akin to complete excitement. Without further explanation, he took his wand and also called “ _ Expecto Patronum, _ ” and Harry got, what was going on. Well, everyone else did, too. On key, a second fox joined his, which had been about to dissipate. Upon seeing another fox, though, it wagged its tail and ran up to it, chasing the other creature. Breathless, Barty whispered, “Our Lord is going to kill me…” But on a second note, he victoriously hummed “It’s  _ so _ worth it, though!” While Harry felt blood gathering in his cheeks again, Barty remembered he had to actually teach his class. So he awkwardly explained “Well… You see, Patronuses can change. They sometimes do through severe trauma, but that’s rare. Most of the time, they change because of true love. Uh… the love can be of any kind, of course. In our case, it’s  _ brotherly _ affection, I suppose.” 

But, really, no one believed in that. Draco smirked “But, Professor, shouldn’t the Patronus change to the form of the person, whom an individual loves most? I’d say platonic love is weaker than the normal one.” He alluded to Harry being supposed to have Tom’s Patronus and Harry asked himself the same question. He didn’t love Tom more than Barty or vice versa. He loved both of them equally, so why had his Patronus taken this shape? Somehow, he wanted to ask his husband, but he was afraid at the same time. Maybe he’d react negatively? For now, he shielded his mind and hoped his master wouldn’t come here.

But, luckily, Barty shook his head, even though he now looked a bit more somber. “While you’re normally right in assuming that, you missed one little detail. Of course, dear Mister Potter here loves his husband more than me-” The apprentice wished, he could tell Barty he was wrong. He seemed rather hurt by this ‘ _ fact’ _ . “-That’s obvious, I assume. Problem is, however, the Dark Lord doesn’t have a Patronus. He’s uh… ‘ _ unworthy _ ’ since his heart isn’t pure. At least that is, what all the research in the field suggests. Might be biased, though. If he tried to cast the charm, maggots would try to eat him. Trust me, I saw that once and it wasn’t pretty. Please don’t ask me, why he isn’t worthy. Some Dark Wizards can produce a Patronus, like us two, some can’t. There is no real pattern, as far as we know.” The younger dark wizard was horrified; he had never known his master did not possess this skill. How was he even alive at this point? This only made him want to protect Tom again, scared to lose him. It seemed unfair to Harry - of course, Tom had done horrible things. But he wasn’t evil per se, was he? He was an opportunist, maybe a bit selfish. But that wasn’t evil! The research must have been wrong. “Now, it’s your turn. You’ve seen us cast the spell, so try for yourselves. If you can do it, we can train on our little guest.”

* * *

 

 

Harry felt about ready to puke and held his mouth shut, as he sat on a couch in the Gryffindor Common Room in mid-April. Worriedly, Snow hissed to him, as she laid in his lap and he stroked over her scales to calm down. “ **_Masster, are you ill? Wasss the prey bad?_ ** ” 

He wasn’t certain himself whether the food this evening had not gone bad, somehow. “ **_I-I don’t know._ ** ” He gagged almost, barely keeping it together. Neville, Ron, and Hermione watched him in concern, as they sat at a table and did their homework.

The girl questioningly called “Harry, what’s wrong?” She already put her quill down and was about to aid him.

Again, he whimpered “Don’t know, I’m feeling pretty sick.” The whole week, he had felt kind of full, despite not having eaten much. Today, his stomach had finally reinforced its rebellion against him, it seemed. Not, that he had not felt shitty, anyway. Harry didn’t feel healthy or content in his body, anyway. Everything was too warm, too loud, too scratchy, and uncomfy. He couldn’t even stand being cuddled up to Barty or Tom half of the time. Before his death, he hadn’t enjoyed their body-heat, either, but this was different. Now, even the cooler temperatures of the Potions’ classroom in the school's basement felt too warm. He just wanted to  _ flee _ from his own body. It was… disgusting to live in, somehow wrong. The apprentice worried, this was only the beginning. But he’d not give up, yet, and weakly declared “I-I’ll go to Pomfrey, maybe she has something to help me.” His mind felt kind of hazy, somehow.

Concerned for their friend, the three sympathetically regarded him. Granger even stood up, wondering “Should we come with you? You look as if you’ll faint soon…” 

“No! No… Don’t worry about it,” he quickly retorted. While Ron and Hermione knew of him possessing all the Deathly Hollows, he had not told them about his body decaying. Harry gently placed Snow on the couch beside him, before standing up and straight-up apparating into the Hospital Wing. He really was about to faint, he felt upon standing up. But he had already set his mind on apparition, so it was too late.

“Potter! You promised not to-” immediately, Pomfrey scolded him, but quickly shut up as he emptied his stomachs contents into the nearest bin “Oh, boy. What have you done this time, hm?” Now dutifully concerned, she walked over to him and patted his back once. Apparating had not been wise, it had upset his stomach, even more, it seemed. Morbidly she looked into the trash-can, only for her breath to hitch “Potter, sit down on the bed  _ right now _ !” In confusion, he glanced at his own puke, also, only to see dark red mixing with his not really digested food. He obeyed, shakily sitting down on the hospital bed and trying to not think about the awful taste in his mouth. It tasted beyond vile.

While the medi-witch rushed to some kind of cabinet, he touched his lip. Looking at his finger, Harry could see more blood, still. Simultaneously, he felt his magical aura weirdly convulse, which surely wasn’t healthy, either. Quickly, the older woman returned and uncorked some kind of bottle with green liquid in it, trying to give it to him. 

But the undead teen reminded “Madam, it won’t work- I’m undead!” Maybe, the stuff could even off him completely if they weren’t careful. Nevertheless, she held it in front of his nose, wanting him to drink. At the rancid smell, he turned his head away and was tempted to just die, instead of drinking it.

“Drink it, Potter, or are you a medi-wizard?” She huffily told him, before stating “It  _ is _ for the unliving.” Upon that, he scrunched his face up and reluctantly forced himself to take the green, extremely slimy liquid. Surprisingly, it calmed his burning throat and his stomach, as it traveled there. Maybe she wasn’t trying to poison him, after all. While he caught his breath, the other one vanished again briefly, before coming back with another potion and her wand to check him more thoroughly. After casting a spell, she unhappily pointed out “You’re more dead than alive.” 

Tired, he breathed out “I know. My body is going to become fully undead, soon. This is just the start, I’m assuming. I’ve never felt worse, madam. E-Everything is overwhelming and I can’t eat properly anymore… I’m not even hungry.” He knew it was redundant, what would she be able to do about it?

In approval, she supported his idea, however, keeping her voice low as a colleague of hers entered. “Yes, hm… I’d say you are in the beginning stages of your transformation, if I may call it that. This is very similar to how a vampire would transform, Mister Potter. Your body might not be able to take in the nutrients anymore, so it rejects them completely. But unlike a vampire, you don’t seem to need blood to sustain your body. There must be something else…” 

Nodding, he sighed “Magic is keeping me alive. Death’s magic, to be more precise.” Merlin, was he glad he didn’t need to drink blood like one of the nightly creatures. That was only a small comfort, though. Everything else sucked! Worst thing being, he’d be less than human soon; an abomination.

Pomfrey slowly nodded, working with that idea in her head “ If that is true, it makes sense. After all, without anything replacing your life-force, you’d not be able to keep on running. Anyway, we have to find a solution.” Unhappily, she turned around a vial with a bluish potion in her hands, elaborating “This is a potion used on transforming vampires to make their life a little easier by dampening their senses. Since you said everything was overwhelming you, this might help.  _ But _ … the problem is this is all rather experimental. It doesn’t have to work - quite the contrary, it could kill you.”   
But Harry did not care, already twitching around in his itchy clothes; he wanted to just rip them off, wanted to have nothing cover him. So he tried to grip for the bottle “Anything would be better than this. Doesn’t matter if I die.” It really did not. Had he known Madam Pomfrey had these kinds of potions for him, he’d have gone here far earlier. Because not even the Elder Wand seemed to do the trick nowadays.

But she withdrew the potion again, apologetically going on “Because it is experimental, however, I’m not allowed to administer this. I’d lose my license, dear. I have to ask to get permission by your legal guardian.”

“He says yes,“ he lied, without even caring to ask his mate. 

“Mister Potter, I need it on paper and signed. I’m sure he’ll agree - after all, he was the one to point out a healing potion to me and Headmaster Snape, which could work on your wounds, and already signed for that. But he didn’t agree to me being in full control over your health, sadly.” She softly smiled at him, at which he became a bit flustered. Tom had not even  _ mentioned _ the potion or having signed anything in his name! This was becoming a pattern, which he did not like, even though he’d be of age in a few months. While he trusted him, this still irked him. 

‘ _ Tom, please come here.’ _

‘ _ I know, just a minute- Love, I’m sorry.’ _ Immediately, his mate responded and he had to sigh. Of course, he had already been listening in. 

“He’s coming,” he told the woman, who nodded and used the chance to draw the curtains around them shut to have some privacy. 

Shortly after, his husband came and shot him a concerned glance, asking the now tense medi-witch “What kind of potion is that?” He didn’t seem completely convinced, yet. 

As Pomfrey spoke, he sat down on the bed, as well, and comfortingly took Harry’s hand. But it really didn’t comfort him that strongly - his hand was too warm. “It’s a weakening potion, more or less. Only a bit altered, so it affects the nerves and not physical strength. “

“There is Asphodel in the potion, isn’t there?” Tom question and she nodded, at which he became displeased. “I don’t think that would be wise. Asphodel is also used for the Draught of the Living Dead. It doesn’t affect vampires, but ah… they can’t sleep. I’m not certain if this wouldn’t make him comatose. Or it might do the complete opposite and prevent him from sleeping completely.” 

His apprentice did not enjoy his tone, nor being talked about as if he weren’t there. So he grumbled “Who cares? Either is better than all of this!” He’d rather be comatose than suffer through the next few  _ months _ , perhaps the next year. Hell, even the faint light of candles was giving him a headache. He wished he could be in Limbo with Death. There, it was cold, silent, dark, and endless. Everything, he needed currently. 

But, apparently, his master didn’t care for his suffering enough. “No, love. We don’t even know if this will last. Maybe it’ll be gone tomorrow or next week. I’m not willing to risk your mental health for something like this.” Tom winced, as he spoke out of experience. Sleep-deprivation was used as torture elsewhere.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, agreeing “Maybe it’s for the best if we wait a bit longer.” While she did not seem to appreciate to have Tom in her Hospital Wing, she enjoyed his thought-through decision. Unlike Harry, today. 

“Master, I can’t take a day more of this! I can’t even think straight…” the Death Eater tried to change his opinion, but a finger was placed on his mouth. He was tempted to bite.

Tom softly stopped him “Shh, no talking back. Harry, you are a necromancer, as well. Would you give Asphodel to your Inferi with no second thought?” Harry cast his eyes downward, as his lover withdrew his hand. No, he wouldn’t. “See? It’s simply too dangerous. And I won’t sign anything, which possibly endangers you more than it needs to.” Despite Harry’s agreement, he still did not like being patronized by his supposed legal guardian. “You’re my servant, love. Simply obey, you understand I’d never misuse your trust. I’m only trying to protect you from others and yourself.” His master retorted at his thoughts and placed a kiss against his temple. Harry did not know, whether he should enjoy his attentiveness or be angry at him. Pomfrey shook her head and left them alone to talk. 

Demotivated, the Master of Death murmured “I don’t need protection.  _ You _ need protection. And even as your servant, I don’t like being patronized. I’m not a child… I like serving, but I don’t like being seen as a helpless novice.” It simply wasn’t fair. He was just as strong as every other Death Eater. He had been supposed to be the Savior! Why was he treated like a small child by his mates? 

Chuckling a bit, Riddle was amused at his words “You’re not helpless, I know that. But you know I’m selfish. I can’t have you die again, not even temporarily. And I suppose Barty feels the same way. You’re too precious to lose.” Tom tried to nuzzle his face, but Harry made a bothered growl upon scratchy hair touching his skin, so he stopped with a sad glint in his eyes. 

“It would be nice if you at least told me, what you do in my name once in a while. Also, I’m not even going on raids anymore... “ It was true. His last raid had been almost six weeks ago. He felt useless. 

“I sometimes don’t tell you, because I forget or don’t deem it noteworthy. This time, it was the former. Love, I don’t see you every day and you know I’m tired. And old. I forget some matters. And the raids ah… Your education is a bit more important than those, isn’t it? Also, we’re not raiding that much, anyway.” 

Trying to shift the topic away from himself, Harry reminded “We still have to solve your nightmares, though.” 

“They’ve gotten better, already. Maybe a few more months and they’re almost gone again. Mh… maybe you’d be willing to come with me tonight and help me out…?” He was faced with a charming smirk and enticing purr, but he shook his head. 

Right now, he had no libido left. “No, I don’t think so. “ He’d probably go nuts with the sweaty, warm skin of his mate touching him, the smell of sex surrounding him and groans being panted into his ear. Normally, that all was very arousing to him, but not now. Jokingly, he proposed “But maybe Barty can help you.” 

His husband raised an eyebrow “If I even as much as flirt with him, he’ll start pestering me every, single day. He’s insatiable, as you probably noticed. It’s horrible enough I can’t sleep without him trying to ‘comfort’ me.” 

“Hm… at least sleep in his bed if you can. I have the feeling it might help in the long run,” his bond-mate advised and, rather hesitantly, was agreed to.

“I’ll try. Are you sure you don’t want to at least come with? It’s the weekend- we could even sleep in,” his husband warmly invited him to join in on their cuddle-puddle, at which his heart ached. 

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Hm…” his lover produced a sad, pitiful sound, which did not make it better at all. Was he making his mate sad? Harry secretly hid his thoughts a little, worrying. “But… perhaps we could do something else at the weekend? You still haven’t taken me to Madam Puddifoot’s.” Tom stroked his hand gently, hoping to elicit a positive result, Harry saw. He shouldn’t. 

“Maybe another time, where I can actually e-eat… Just- don’t worry so much. I need some alone time.” He needed peace and quiet, the cold. He just needed to be away from life for a bit. 

Contemplative, the Dark Lord sighed “It’s fine, love.” It wasn’t, his apprentice knew that, despite his words. But he couldn’t change it, not now. Tom had always told him to care for himself, he was heeding that advice. He wasn’t doing them a favor in being tense and huffing at them when they were trying to be affectionate. “Shit.” 

“Huh?” Harry cocked his head at his master, when he suddenly swore. That usually meant something very bad was happening. But they were in the Hospital Wing and there was nothing to see. However, he suddenly heard the flutter of wings approach them from behind, where the windows were, and a greyish owl flew toward them. It dropped a scrap of paper in Tom’s hands, before leaving again. Usually, owls never brought good news for them. Since they had weekly meetings, it must have been something urgent. 

Tom unfolded the piece of parchment, read it through quickly and hissed. “Jugson is dead…” He informed Harry, who nervously swallowed. This was the third Death Eater in not even half a year. Rosier had been found dead in his home, too. Just like Gibbon, there had been no trace of the attacker. “This isn’t a coincidence anymore. Someone is hunting us down,” Riddle gritted his teeth, stating the obvious. 

“But… how? None of them were public! If they tried to after Barty or Sev, I’d understand. But them? Also, why in their homes? Er… I assume, he’s been killed there, too.” He had never heard of something like that before. Not even the Order had managed to pull off something like this. 

Combing through his hair, his older master growled “They are trying to intimidate us. Whoever ‘they’ are. They want to show us that they have info on us, that we’re not safe.”

“How would they find out about it, though?” It was ridiculously hard to find out stuff about the Dark Side if it didn’t want to be found out. Or, at least, if Tom was alive and well. 

“We probably have a mole. The question is, who. It must be someone marked, but all of the Death Eaters - except you - have been here for ages. And I don’t think you are the mole, don’t worry,” he grinned at his mate, despite the grave situation. “I suppose it’s time to make use of dear Barty.” 

Confused, Harry squinted his eyes “Barty isn’t the spy-” 

“Tsk, of course not! But he can be very convincing and loves inflicting pain in others. I’ll make him part of the Inner Circle again, give him some special rights, and then he’ll investigate a bit. Not even Bella would willingly let herself be tortured by him. So they’ll talk.” Upon the notion of Barty’s exceptional torturing, the Slytherin’s heir became all dreamy-eyed again. 

“And… why aren’t we doing that? I mean… I can breach anyone’s mind,” he shrugged. It would take some time and strength to use Legilimency, but he’d comb through all of them. 

His husband tensed and admitted “I’d rather not have them aware of that skill. Few people know of Legilimency and that’s good. Also… the mole could be under Imperiatus, for all we know. Or Fildelius. If you look into them and see nothing or something misleading, we’d draw the wrong conclusions.”

The younger one became suspicious of his mate and squinted his eyes at him. “But er… wouldn’t that be the case with torture, also? Someone under Imperiatus can lie under Veritaserum. And even if they decline and Barty hurts them, they’d not say anything…” This wasn’t right. His master usually never stated wrong, flawed ideas. Guiltily, Tom smiled at him, having read his mind. Harry stood up shakily and detached himself from him, trying to get his way like that “Tom, “ he whispered, “What are you hiding?” 

“Oh, love… You’re too smart for your own good-”

“Flattery will get you nowhere! After all, you seemed to think you could fool me,” Potter bit into his tongue slightly. He didn’t like his mate thinking, he was a naive idiot. He didn’t get everything, but a lot! Even in his confused state of mind, he wasn’t a moron. Although he  _ did _ feel a bit lightheaded right now...

Casting his eyes away from him, his husband finally admitted to his schemes “Harry, you’re in no state to do all of this. Even your aura feels… sickly. I’m simply not comfortable with you over-working yourself right now. For all we know, you need all your strength to not ah…” 

“-Rot?” Harry regarded him in betrayal. He was fit to serve! He wasn’t some kind of wimp or cry-baby. “I’m not weak-”

“But you are ill, love.” The older, handsome man sighed in pity, trying to grab his hand again to no avail. “You were ill since January and it only gets worse! You couldn’t even defeat Barty, and I’ve seen you fight far better than that-”

“I was going soft on him-”

“- _ Don’t _ .” His mate full on hissed, demanding him to obey. In these last weeks, there had been multiple meetings of the club. In all of those, he had not bested Barty to his own dismay. “Don’t you think I’m watching you closely? Love, Barty may be an expert at dispelling the Imperiatus, but yours was pitiful to look at that first time. And even now, your fighting stance is flawed, making you vulnerable. You couldn’t even knock out Barty with light-spells. You’re my equal and I know you’re better than that; I know you can be more dangerous.” His words hurt more than they should. Lowly, Riddle added “Your magic is depleting. This isn’t just your body dying; this goes far deeper. And, no, I will not allow you to risk your health, because it’s handier than the traditional way.” Meanwhile, Pomfrey walked by and shot Tom an approving glance. 

He hated his mate. “I’m not suddenly inept, because I’m sick!” 

“You are going to do, what I tell you to. If I say no, that’s final. If you don’t start caring enough for yourself, I’ll do it for you. You will stay here in Hogwarts, in safety, and you will go easy on yourself. Is that understood?” His master eyed him, more stubborn than Harry himself. Expectantly, he regarded his Death Eater, waiting for him to submit. Harry’s Mark started pulsing when he remained silent. Tom huffed and stood up, still being able to tower over him. “Love, I can be your sweetest husband, or I can be your worst enemy. It’s your pick. Don’t make me punish you, because - unlike Barty - I’d not appreciate it.” Harry angrily questioned within his mind, what he’d even do at this point. “Oh, I could do many a thing. How about stationing Barty elsewhere? Or making him discipline you. Hm… I wonder, who’d be more hurt by that. Or maybe I could pay Winky a visit.” Tom’s eyes grew dark and cruel, expertly abusing Harry’s weak spot. 

“Y-You wouldn’t do that to him…” he insecurely whimpered, but he wasn’t so sure about that. 

Tom confirmed it “If I had to pick between you and Barty, whom would I choose, huh? Don’t make me choose between your and Bartemius’ health. It wouldn’t end well,  **_little Horcrux_ ** .” 

Upon being degraded to nothing more, but an object to hold a soul, Harry’s will to oppose the other became non-existent. He only felt sick and his legs felt like pudding. “Yes, master... “ the formerly so prideful Gryffindor obeyed and the mild pain in his arm left him; not in his heart, though. 

Now softer, the Dark Lord touched his cheek lovingly “Now, don’t look so depressed. It’s only for your own good. I love you; I’d not do this to hurt you.” 

Numbly, the Master of Death replied “Okay…” He didn’t want the hot hand to touch him. Regretting his action, his equal let it fall to his side immediately. “Can I go now?” 

His persona faltering, his master awkwardly agreed “Sure ah… I’ll be with Barty, then. Are you sure you don’t want to come, too?” 

“Are you ordering me to?” The Death Eater asked for clarification, at which his mate obviously declined. “Then no; I want to be alone,” the Master of Death coldly stated and escaped his mate to a place, where he could be relatively alone. Apparating - despite his master's hurried disapproval, he entered the Chamber of Secrets. 

He somehow felt weird suddenly, a short, but strong pain at his side and back, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. After a second or so, it vanished. He felt like he was missing something. But it felt good to be this free at the same time. Pushing the air out of his lungs with ease, he took in the cold, damp air of the place. In front of him, the face of Slytherin eyed him with its stone face, around him and the stone pathway was clear water. The skeletal remains of the basilisk faced him, his skull still screaming at him in agony. But shouldn’t it be happy? 

He had been down here so often these last days; this was his hiding spot. Was this how Tom’s ancestor had felt once? Or he himself? Mindlessly, he wandered toward the dead snake and touched its cold, dry bones. This was far more comfortable than warm hands and scratchy hair. Had this snake a soul, it would be him. He heavily leaned against one of the tall bones with his back; maybe Tom was right. He really wasn’t feeling well, he was so tired, somehow. But how could he go on like this? Harry didn’t want to be pampered. His vision was slightly blurry, turning dark around the edges, so he sank down and sat on the pleasantly cold floor. This room was perfect. It wasn’t Purgatory, but it came close. It was freezing down here, even in summer, and the only noise was his own, slow breathing and the gentle flow of water around him. It smelled moldy down here, but he could live with that. It was better than smelling all those sweaty students or the overwhelming smell of food in the Great Hall. The stone wasn’t itchy, neither was the water - it was simple and smooth. This, right here, was heaven compared to the world above. The Master of Death wanted to stay in this grave together with his perfect companion. This dead, decaying, beautiful being. He shouldn’t have felt bad for it dying. She should be far happier before him. He wanted to be happy, too. 

“Those are the thoughts of a mad man, sweet master,” his other, flawless friend pointed out to him, silently walking over the stone floor and toward him. Where had he come from? “But she is beautiful, yes.” The grey-eyed Tom chirped at him, touching the bones, too. Death kneeled down in front of him “But this is no place for someone as lovely as you. Don’t you want me to bring you somewhere better?” 

He didn’t get the question. Better? This was pretty great already. And he wasn’t allowed to leave Hogwarts, anyway. So Harry tiredly - weird, when had he become tired again? - drawled “What better place?” Something was wrong. 

“Oh, you know, just nowhere,” Death smiled at him warmly and it made perfect sense to him. The ghost reached out, touching his shoulder, before pulling him into a hug. Death felt comfy, like a sunny afternoon. Far better than his mates. He wanted to stay like this forever. Was this wrong? They’d surely understand. “You seem so tired… Don’t you want to sleep? I’d make it perfect for you… no bad itching, no warmth, no heavy blanket, or something alive to bother you. Just me and you.”

“Hm…?” Harry voiced, hoping his servant would understand. He felt too weak to speak. This was wrong, all wrong… But how? 

“I could take you home. Just me and you, just nothing,” soft lips were pressed against his forehead once and he wanted nothing more than to agree. “Nothing to disturb you. Just rest, my master. Have a break. Wouldn’t that be nice?”  Death seemed so inviting to him, making him weakly grab at him to pull him closer. He never judged him, he never said un-nice things. He was just there and appreciating him. “No noise, no smell. Just endless nothingness.” 

Something dawned on the Master of Death, who furrowed his brows and exhaustedly hummed “...Purgatory?” But how could he get there now?

“No, lovely master…  _ deeper _ ,” was loudly purred in pleasure, as if they were talking about something completely different. The sound came from everywhere, not just from the body in his arms. “We’re already halfway to Purgatory, silly.” He chuckled next, confusing him only more. 

“H-Huh?” He had no idea, what was going on anymore. He was on the brink of fainting - from something - and it kind of impaired his brain capacity. He felt like he was sitting on a sheet of ice, waiting to break into the lake and drown. But there was no ice, the floor was lukewarm and wet. 

Plump, enticing lips pressed against his then, his chin having been tilted up with a hand. “We can end this here, once and for all. No more pain, no more decay. I can take you home. Do you want that?” It sounded so promising; so right, but so wrong. “We can become one…”

“What do… you mean…?” Harry could only speak with great strain and detached himself from the other. He was shaking, although he wasn’t cold. 

His slave regarded him fondly and said nothing. Needing to support himself, Harry put his hands on the floor only to frown at himself as he touched the wet warmth on it. Had the floor always been wet? No, that couldn’t be. He’d not have sat in a puddle, despite his tiredness. Wavering in his movements, the Master of Death withdrew his hands again, not liking to touch something wet. Death caught them and intertwined his almost white fingers with his red ones. “You’re dying, master.” 

Transfixed on a blood-red drop snaking down his ring and then his Mark, Harry looked down at himself, a little worried. There was a lot of blood on the floor, wasn’t there? Was that his? What did his blood do there - it should be in his veins, right…? Hm. 

Death kissed his knuckles, but no blood stuck to his lips. Was he imagining things? But no, “Master, you’re bleeding out. Not  _ here _ , but in real life, you are.” 

“R-Real life…?” Wasn’t this real? But how? And why? 

“You’re unconscious, my poor holder of Hollows,” Death replied, rather amused at his cluelessness. When he silently begged to be explained more, he chuckled in entertainment “You splinched yourself pretty bad. Even though you’re using my magic - that’s quite the accomplishment. You’re always so full of surprises! Anyway… do you want to come home with me, now?  _ Please _ … One would think you don’t like having me around!”  Another kiss was placed on his lips and Harry now noticed, Death wasn’t as cold as usual. 

But he relaxedly shook his head “No... “ He didn’t want to go to the afterlife, even with Death’s sweet promises to him and his head full of cotton. 

“Oh… So you want to go on playing?” Harry confirmed that, blinking the blackness away. “And there I thought I had you, precious. It could have solved so many problems at once… Now I’ll have to worry about keeping us separate again! But, don’t worry! I love doing your bidding…” With a sly grin, he flirted “I love all of you and what you do, master.” 

“ _ Death _ …” he warned. His friend was trying to postpone this, wasn’t he? And make him die? But he didn’t like sitting in blood; it reminded him too much of mud. 

“But you’ll only suffer! Don’t you want to feel well and cared for? If you go back now, it’ll be worse… Healing you will kill you faster,” he was warned, also, but did not care. He had no choice. So, when he remained determined, his fake-mate wailed “Very well… I’ll wait a while longer and perfect our home. Have fun...”

* * *

 

 

“-waking up!” Was the first thing, Harry could hear, but it was beyond muffled. Everything hurt. Legs, arms, chest, head... Just all of his body parts, he knowingly possessed. It was too warm, too uncomfortable, right away. He produced some annoyed, displeased whine at that, making everyone, who might be there, aware of his state. But who was there? And where was  _ there _ ? He had no clue. At least not the chamber, he concluded. The ground was too soft. More voices, and the ground started to move. Ground wasn’t supposed to do that! So he produced another whine. He was the Master of Death- how dare he be disturbed like that? “Open your eyes,...” 

No, he’d rather not. Maybe he should have let himself die, just for a while. When another earthquake erupted beneath him, he pressed into the floor’s softness to make it stop. But it seemed unwilling and it suddenly became vertical, instead of horizontal, making him sit up. “No…” he now full-on declared his disappointment, so it would stop. 

Something rubbed along his bare back and along his spine, but it stopped when a gruff voice barked “-you’ll hurt him, you-”

But the small Death Eater possessed no intention to listen to that and relaxed again. Whatever, or whoever, this was - it didn’t matter. What was the big deal? He had almost died, but not really. He was fine. Someone nuzzled his hair and he managed to discern a familiar smell. Firewhiskey. He wanted to cuddle closer upon that, get away because of the scratchiness, and hit his alcoholic partner right now, all at the same time. “Sunshine-”

“Hmm…” Harry simply made, as his waist was embraced and pulled impossibly closer. Again, a concerned someone snapped at Barty to not be so rough with him. Nevertheless, Harry pressed closer and let the dark take him again, so it would care for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading again! <3


	6. To drown in a lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up after splinching his entire back, almost having died. But upon doing so, everything seems wrong and he doesn't cope well with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! It became a tiny bit too long, but whatever. Otherwise, the ending would have been a bit weird!

**Chapter 6**

**To drown in a lake**

* * *

* * *

When he awoke again fully, Harry immediately wanted to go back to sleep again. He still felt tired, utterly exhausted, and disoriented. The former Savior rested on something impossibly soft, presumably a bed, making his resistance die down even more. Had he been dreaming? He remembered faint memories of people hushedly talking to him, and of floating in an abyss for what had felt like enternity.

However, he began to question his current surroundings fairly quickly. Where was he? This bed was too soft to be Barty’s, but too big to be one in the Hospital Wing. However, opening his eyes was as hard as it got; it was far too bright for him. Even then, there did not seem to be anyone in this room with him, although he could perceive the vague presence of his mates around, maybe others. Frowning, he wondered when he had acquired this skill. 

Without many choices, the Master of Death summoned the Elder Wand into his hand and blindly made any and all curtains close for him. How long had he been asleep for, if sunlight was hurting him so? He almost felt like one of his Inferius - he prayed, they had been cared for in his absence. With a sigh of relief, Harry opened his eyes to the pleasantly dark-ish room and struggled to sit up. But he soon stopped his attempt, when his back and sides burned horrendously and made him hiss in blind pain. In concern, he touched his back, his touches feather-light, so he’d not do any damage. He found himself to be bandaged up nicely and gave up with a huff. 

‘ _ I bloody splinched my  _ whole _ back?’ _ He couldn’t believe this. Death had actually told him the truth? He had never hurt himself by apparating before, not even once! He must have been really out of it, he realized. He also saw that he barely remembered, what had led to this. He knew he had argued with Tom about something, but what? Probably something stupid; he started to pout. What had his bloody life become?

Observing the room, the Gryffindor still had no way of knowing, where he was at. The room was hexagonal almost and there was the Hogwarts’ emblem hanging on one wall. The sheets covering him were red and upon closer inspection, all his stuff was scattered around the room. Scattered was an unfair term, though. It had been neatly put on a table and drawer; probably Tom’s work. He found that a bit weird, but discarded the thought for now.

Harry wanted to call his husband, but stopped himself. Tom would  _ maul _ him. He’d be furious about him running off again, and about hurting himself. So calling him was not high on his to-do list today. No, he settled for something safer. Wriggling around a bit, he pressed the tip of his wand against his Dark Mark and called Barty. As he waited for him to storm in - and hopefully declare his undying love to him - he cast the tempus charm. ‘ _ May 15th, 12:30 o’clock.’ _ His blood froze solid - that ought to be wrong. 

_ One month _ . He had been gone one month?! His eyes wide, he tried not to hyperventilate. Which was easy, he uncomfortably realized. He wasn’t breathing at all. Trying to take a breath in, he started to violently cough; his lungs felt  _ dry _ , unused. As his eyes teared up through the coughing - which forced him to take in more air, making him cough even harder; a vicious circle - he shakily tried to listen for his own heartbeat. It  _ had _ to be there, still.

_ ‘NoNoNo-’ _ he begged anything, that was willing to listen. This couldn’t be happening- he didn’t want this! This was unfair! He was panicking internally; was this his life now? His un-life? He was an Inferius,  _ inferior _ . He wanted to look in a mirror, but was too afraid to. What if he had become one of them? Or if he had no reflection anymore all of a sudden? Harry hit his stupid cushion - he should have stayed dead this time; didn’t he ever learn? It got worse with every (pseudo-)death of his. First, his parents die, then he almost loses Tom to insanity! And now? The Necromancer had fallen victim to his own curses! Why was fate this cruel? She declined to answer. 

As he started to sob - not from the coughing anymore - he didn’t even notice Barty, until he placed a far too steady hand on his shoulder blades. Had he apparated in here? “You’re awake…” he simply stated, disbelief in his voice, as if he were a Muggle seeing a ghost for the first time.

“Wish I wasn’t-” Harry spitefully snapped, the palm on him flinching. But the other fox didn’t give up and sat on his bed, before coaxing him into a sitting position. Harry wanted to hit him, curse him, perhaps, as he had to whimper from the pain. But the Death Eater did not seem to care, as he pulled him into his lap and held him by his lower back, where he wasn’t as severely injured. Harry had to lean against him if he did not fancy falling out of the bed, grabbing at the other’s robes. Crouch was wearing his black, formal ones, for whatever reason. Not Death-Eater-formal, mind you. Angered, his younger lover pulled at them, wanting them to go away “I’m not dead yet, you prick!” Those were robes for  _ mourning  _ wizards.

His forehead was kissed once and the stench of alcohol hit him with full force, making him hate his moronic mate even more fiercely. Their foreheads touching, Barty softly told him “Thank Merlin for that… I missed you, Harry.” Stubborn, Harry declined to return the same words. Either way, for him only hours had passed since his meeting with Death.  _ If _ that had been the real one, anyway. Maybe he had hallucinated. Death would never try to lure him into the afterlife, would he? What use would that even have? Just to make them merge? “Please don’t pull a stunt like this again. Don’t even think about it-” 

Offended again, the Master of Death dug his nails into the other’s shoulders “I didn’t do it on purpose!” He wasn’t suicidal. But now, he worried to be ridiculed for his failed apparition, instead. He enjoyed being put into place in the figurative bedroom, but not in this  _ literal _ bedroom! So he’d not take any shit from him. Barty was supposed to dote over him, pity him, and tell him some stupid anecdote of his. He needed him to pretend all of this was normal, perfectly fine. Like he hadn’t just turned into an undead abomination. Harry couldn’t even look at his face, too afraid of his look of disgust. 

“I know, I know… Just happens an awful lot, don’t you think, hm?” Barty kissed his left cheek, not minding his salty tears clinging to them. Maybe he had not realized, what the younger one had become, yet.

“S-Shut up…” 

“Grumpy, are we?” His Hufflepuff deeply chuckled, “Guess spending so much time away from me and in hell does that to you…” But his tone grew serious, cold even, as he huskily whispered “Why did you make us wait for so long?” He didn’t need Barty to be cold, when he himself was frosty like a corpse six feet under in winter! He wanted him warm, loving, open.

Confused, the undead student defended himself “I- I didn’t make you wait! I didn’t even die this time…” Was his boyfriend seriously blaming him for being in a coma? That didn’t sound like him at all. Harry wanted to blame it on his friend called ‘ _ Firewhiskey’ _ , but he knew the other was incredibly jealous of Death, not liking his influence on Harry much more than Tom. 

“Sunshine. You didn’t even bloody breathe! That is pretty dead to me-” 

“-I can  _ see _ that…” 

Hurt, Crouch growled “Watch that sass, baby brother.” Immediately, the younger Death Eater shut up in wonder. Barty had never disciplined him before. Mixed feelings washed over him. Why was he even obeying? “You were dead, that’s final. End of discussion. Why did it take so long?” 

“But I wasn’t dead!” He looked up at his mate’s eyes, defying him then. “And I’m not breathing now, either.” Along with other things, which were not working anymore. He was defective. 

Out of nowhere, a hand snapped up toward his neck, which had his eyes widen in horror. What was wrong with Bartemius? But he didn’t try to strangle him, which he had thought of at first. Instead, his head was simply held in place, forced to look up at the other. “What have you done to Harry, you little shit!” His fellow dark wizard murderously questioned him and the grip on him tightened somewhat. 

“W-What- What do you mean?” He wanted to get away, for the first time fearing his mate. He couldn’t even fathom to read his mind- what if he truly was disgusted? 

“ _ Answer _ , or scream,” the torturer warned him, not about to explain, apparently. “I have very little tolerance today, so speak,” he snapped at him, at which he could only produce a frightened whimper. What had gotten into him? Harry wasn’t afraid of dying, he was afraid of being at the receiving end of his mate’s Cruciatus and worse. And not in a pleasurable way. 

Struggling again, the younger Death Eater pleaded “No- Barty, w-what are you-” But he soon found himself gasping in pain, when he was forced off the comfortable lap and onto hard, wooden floor, hitting the surface right with his raw back, only the bandages and a shirt covering them. It felt like hitting ice, being in danger to soon drown. “Please, no-” he tried again to elicit some kind of mercy in the other, unable to scramble away from this, feeling lightheaded again. If he was attacked now, he’d faint again.

But the Death Eater had already jumped up and trained his wand on him, now shaking with rage. “Where is he!” 

“I’m here-”

“No! Give him back-” Barty lost it and Harry braced himself for the inevitable. His lover was about to torture him, wasn’t he? But why? What kind of delusion was this?  Had he drunk this much?

But, his luck returning, someone stopped Barty right on cue, before he could fire a Cruciatus at him. That someone being a disoriented Dark Lord, who disarmed his servant on reflex upon seeing his mate on the floor, and had appeared out of nowhere. Maybe his emotional stress had alerted him? Before Barty could snap at him, too, Tom demanded “Why are you attacking him, runt! He wakes up and you go on to kill him again? What is wrong with you?” Harry had expected more, somehow, he thought in shock.

Riddle went on to want to cower beside his heartbroken husband, but was denied that comfort. Instead, his servant caught his arm and pulled him back, quite to Tom’s displeasure. Why Barty wasn’t the one to scream now, eluded the Master of Death. “You don’t understand! That’s not Harry- It’s- It’s Death!” 

“I’m not!” Harry wailed, not understanding. His change had been apparent for months! Why did Barty think he was Death, simply because he did not breathe? This was, of course, horrible, but it had been expected. Or perhaps he simply did not want to accept reality? 

Tom tried to free himself from the stronger man’s grip, but only managed to come so far. In the end, his arm was still in Barty’s possession and he was forced to stand relatively close to him. When he confusedly searched Harry’s, well,  _ everything _ to see, what was wrong, Barty grumbled “The  _ eyes _ , Tom! They’re grey-” The Master of Death touched his own cheek, right below his eye. Were they really? “They’re supposed to be green!”

“I know my own husband's eye color, Barty!” The Slytherin huffily pointed out and hissed “Now let me go. It’s him- just Harry! You haven’t even thought about feeling for your bond to him, have you?” Sheepishly, Barty let go of his Lord and turned pale. “Typical.” Tom approached his husband, who sat there like a hurt animal, cooing “You should have called me instead, love,” and he knelt down in front of him to help him up. How had he known? Harry said nothing, still shaken by everything prior. He could only notice, how Tom was barely dressed. He was only wearing trousers and a shirt, which surely meant something. All black, too, but at least that was normal for the Dark Lord. 

Harry, as he was helped to sit on the bed again, worriedly looked from Tom to Barty and back. What was going to happen now? What did he  _ want _ to happen? He had no clue. He felt empty, numb.

“I’m such an idiot…” the older Death Eater muttered to himself and cringed, expecting a scolding from everyone. Tom drew nearer to him, which had Harry snap out of it and demand Barty to be spared. But his husband had had very different intentions anyway, it seemed, when he put a gentle hand on Barty’s shoulder with no hesitation whatsoever. Harry’s entire worldview crumbled down, when he leaned in and placed a  _ voluntary _ kiss on Crouch Jr’s cheek, humming matter-of-factly “A  _ drunk _ idiot; don’t be so hard on yourself.” 

Disturbed, the undead-one stuttered “W-What the hell... “ What had happened this month! And why had it been the month, where he was in a coma! “What happened, while I was gone!” More importantly, why was Barty kissed and not he himself? Barty had not splinched himself; he was perfectly fine! 

“Too much for all of us, brother. Be glad you were… gone,” his Professor shyly avoided looking at him, still guilty. He better be, Harry thought spitefully. If Barty had not drunk, he might have reacted less negatively and hostile. 

Flustered, Harry blubbered “Wha- Seeing you like this, I’m not happy!” While Crouch’s look became even gloomier, as he misunderstood; Tom chuckled. 

“Hm, you didn’t miss anything vital between us two, love. We just grew a bit… closer, that’s all. As your dutiful widower, I, of course, stayed entirely celibate,” he licked his lips smugly, knowing full well, what Harry had wanted. Provoking the youngest, Tom closed off his mind and happily chirped at the other man in the room “Right, Barty?” 

“U-Uh… of course, my Lord,” he answered. But Harry expertly dismantled his husband's defenses, nevertheless, only to find nothing. 

“Someone’s jealous, “ his master’s grin grew, but he sat down next to his apprentice. “But don’t worry, if anything happens you’ll be present. Anyway, maybe we should brief you on more important matters?” 

Scrunching up his nose and trying to stop himself from trembling, Harry pointed out in annoyance “Yes, but first of all: I didn’t bloody die! I explicitly told Death I didn’t want to- And no, I didn’t try to kill myself, either.” He’d not allow the two to wallow in self-pity, although he was fine. Well, he wasn’t  _ fine _ , but he wasn’t dead. Even though his husband's cheerful demeanor remained unfaltering, he could see right through it. He knew him; he possessed a seventh of his soul, after all. Although, he noticed upon closer inspection that his connection to the two others seemed weaker than usual. Maybe because of his current, general numbness? He prayed it would go back to normal again.

“Sunshine, you  _ died _ .” Barty was still not up to debate the subject, still stubborn. Despite the lingering awkwardness between the two of them, he sat down on the bed, as well, albeit a few inches away from him. “And your eyes…” 

But Tom sighed “Bartemius, I’d have noticed if my Horcrux had died. I told you. Multiple times, actually. Maybe drinking impaired your capacity to take in new memories?” Sometimes, the apprentice thought he got off on teasing people like that. Nevertheless, he accepted a warm hand snaking toward his own, left one, holding it. It felt so different, somehow. Not, like it used to be. The warmth definitely increased, but Tom’s magic thrummed beneath his skin, alongside something more vivid. The same kind of energy came from Barty, but even stronger. So much so, he felt it without touching him. He wanted to possess  _ it _ . 

“And why is he… like  _ this _ then if he didn’t kick the bucket?” Crouch Jr wildly motioned toward Harry’s body, which cut right into his self-esteem. How dare he? 

Harry bit into his lower lip, swallowing down any remark, that had tried to be made. Cool, as if talking about Necromancy as such, he informed him “Barty, I’m undead. Not… fully, yet, but pretty close. I still feel weird about my body, so there must be some life in me, still.” His whole body just seemed off. Like there was too much or too little of something.

“But why-” 

The Master of Death shrugged “Dying that first time must have started this off, somehow. And I suppose almost bleeding out didn’t exactly help, did it? Death told me, healing me would kill me faster. And my eyes… maybe they’re just some manifestation of his magic in me? Or his soul? I have no idea.” Upon his lover’s apprehension-filled stare, he clarified “I am  _ not _ Death, though.” Before anyone could ask him further, hurtful questions he murmured “Believe me or don’t, then... What happened, while I was gone?” He was fed up with Barty’s behavior right now. He had no clue, what he was talking about! None at all! Also, Crouch didn’t get to be pitied by Harry for his  _ own _ almost-death! Especially not, when he had attacked him mere minutes ago.

His master gently rubbed over the back of Harry’s hand and the latter suddenly realized, he had not shielded his mind against him. Upon that thought, the hand on his tightened, and Riddle emitted a clearly displeased feeling. Nonetheless, he briefed him “Well, we have been trying to find the people, who are hunting us down. Barty here has not been successful, yet. Neither has Lucius found anything, nor Yaxley. It’s quite… difficult, since there are no trails to go after and there are far too many suspects as such. Theoretically, ever light wizard could be after us. Otherwise… not much happened. Well, we placed you in the Headboy’s quarters for convenience; he wasn’t very suitable, anyway.” 

As Harry nodded along, he bitterly remembered the contents of their argument. But if Tom didn’t want his help, he’d surely not  _ beg _ to be allowed to help out. If he thought he did not need his equal, the  _ Master of Death _ \- well, he must have been doing well on his own. So he put it in his mental drawer labeled ‘ _ unimportant’ _ and ignored the issue. After all, what else could he do in this state? Running around London like some kind of Death Eater vigilante wasn’t an option. His magic still felt  _ thin _ and Death’s, which clung to him like a parasite, seemed very confusing to him. Although Death would have surely called himself a symbiote, not parasite. But Harry did not care; this was all his fault, anyway.

Meanwhile, his Professor also updated him somewhat “You didn’t really miss much, which would be uh… important to you. Well, your friends were kind of pestering me, where you were and uh… maybe they asked, why I was wearing black now.  _ Perhaps _ , they think you’re dead. A-Anyway, I was super busy with torture and all, so… yeah. Couldn’t really help it.” 

“Are you serious-” Harry growled, unhappy with him. Was he a joke to him? “Would it have killed you to tell them I was on a mission or something?” He did not want his friends to know about him turning into some kind of dark creature! It would have taken no effort at all to do this little thing for him!

Meek, his brother admitted “Didn’t really think about it…” 

“Well, maybe if you didn’t drink all fucking day, you would have,” he insulted him, the other servant only staring at the floor intently. Harry wanted to get up and leave, but his back was hurting more than it had before. Toward Tom, he demanded to be told “Why haven’t you healed me?” 

“I have, love, but I’m not an expert in Necromancy,” he was curtly answered, as his husband seemed somewhat put off by him scolding Barty. Harry felt disappointed in his master’s capabilities.

“Great, so I’ll just live on like this?” He murmured, knowing that snapping at his husband was unwise. Calling Death was also not all that tempting. Being healed by him would make him die faster, presumably, and his two mates would be livid upon seeing him. But who even cared about him turning undead anymore if they did not care about him in  _ general _ ?

Barty, not very versed in those areas, tried to comfort him “Maybe it’ll heal on its own…?”  

Harry didn’t even care to answer him, just how flawed that idea was. ‘ _ I thought he wanted to read up on Necromancy… Guess trying to poison himself was a higher priority again.’  _ Somehow, everything his platonic mate did, was wrong to him. Was he just some fun fucktoy to him? Something to warm his bed and not worry about? With a grunt, the former mortal concluded “I think I’m just going to sleep more; there is nothing for me to do, after all.” While Tom got the unspoken message to leave him alone right now, give him some space, Barty did not. The former already stood up and stretched, about to apparate back to wherever he had come from. The latter stared at him in confusion, inquiring “Uh… w-won’t we stay here?” His tongue flicked out shortly before he caught his tick and stopped it in embarrassment. 

As Tom regarded him with something akin to pity, the Master of Death mocked him again “Don’t you have better things to do, hm? After all, you’ve been  _ so _ busy!” 

“I can make some room-” 

“I don’t want you to.” The dark apprentice’s grey eyes became vicious, before he snarled “I don’t want to see you, as long as you’re bloody drunk.” It was disrespectful.

There, Tom intervened, not liking his negativity “Harry-” 

“No! If he can’t be bothered to not drink himself into oblivion, I can’t be bothered to have him here. I don’t want to be crucio-ed by a drunkard- But if  _ you _ want that, why don’t you team up and leave me alone? After all, you seemed to be doing just splendid, while I almost died!” Harry had a  _ right _ to be with his mate without having to worry about him being drunk. 

Red eyes transfixed on him, Tom became flustered, also. “If you’re suggesting I didn’t worry-” 

“No, I’m not,” he clarified, before relaxing, as Barty left his side and gravitated toward his Lord. “I’m just saying it’s fucking  _ unfair _ for you to demand me to just ignore this, pretend it doesn’t matter. I always gave you time and was understanding, when you didn’t want him near! Now I’m asking you to accept me not wanting to be close to him and you just say ‘ _ no’ _ ? This is not how this works, Tom! Being understanding is not a one-way street!” He just wanted them gone, wanted to be alone, like he had been in his sleep. 

‘ _ Why are you doing this to him, love? Why are you so cruel-,’  _ his mate dared to enter his mind, pointing out an unwanted truth to him. He thought Tom was a hypocrite.

“Just go and have some fun without me. Just leave me be,” he huskily said, ignoring him entirely. How dare he judge him? He had almost killed Barty once! And he had been cruel to him, even before Harry had been  _ born _ . And now he possessed the audacity to accuse him? Without further notice, Riddle made some vaguely acknowledging noise, before gripping Barty and forcing him to side-along apparate with him. They should be glad to be away from him. What use was he to them? They weren’t necrophiliacs, for Merlin’s sake! And, clearly, he was only of importance to them, if he could provide a body to fuck. After all, neither of them had cared to comfort him, only scolding him for stuff, he did not do!

Feeling irritated, Harry laid down on the bed again, only to sob at the pain, as his back punished him for moving around again. Fed up, he hugged the pillow and laid on his stomach, not knowing, what to do now. Who was he anymore?

Within the next moment, a cold presence rested on his back and he wanted to cry out in relief. “Master… my poor master, what happened, hm?” Harry wasn’t up to talk about it. He simply nuzzled closer into the pillow and allowed Death to do, whatever he wanted, as long as it felt good. “Humans are such difficult creatures, don’t you think? Luckily, you’re not one of them anymore. They can be so… tedious.” The former Savior hummed in approval, as the other rambled on and stroked over his back, sitting on his legs. He didn’t even question, what he was doing here.” I told you; coming home would have been the wiser choice.” 

“I don’t want to die…” the Master of Death grumbled. So his dream had been real, after all, hadn’t it? Great, now there was a third guy wanting to shag him. 

“That’s not very befitting for my master,” his unholy guardian giggled and caressed his spine, making him shudder. “Dying can be such a sacred, pleasant process if you just let go. And I only want your best, master. It’s my duty to do so! Having you in Life’s realm, separate from myself… that’s not good for you. We should be one.”  

Despite feeling too weak to argue right now, Harry snorted “I like being my own person, thank you very much.” 

A face nuzzled his neck and hair, and his servant sweetly promised “Hm… you’d remain yourself, though. I’m not a person, lovely. I’m just… a force, condensed into one soul. I’d not taint you, much. I’m like… your magic. It’s part of you, but if it were gone, it would barely change your personality.” 

Puzzled by that idea, Harry had to think for a moment. That was quite the concept, right there. Trying to ignore someone nibbling on his earlobe, he frowned “But you er… you have a personality? And if you didn’t have one and we already merged a bit, doesn’t that make  _ me _ Death?” His mind was aching to stop its thinking, pleading him to just accept.

Chirping, his friend cooed “Do I? I’m what humans would label ‘ _ possessive’ _ , but otherwise? I simply enjoy having souls around me and doting over my master-soul. And no, you’re not me, yet. You could be…” Another lick along his earlobe, “...more or less.”

While Harry did like being coddled by certain people, he still found this weird. He was not some kind of godlike being, which needed praise. He was Harry, nothing more, nothing- well he was  _ less _ , now. “I don’t want to have your job, though. I don’t want to be Death.” He was content with being his master, perhaps, but not much more. He wanted to live a fulfilling wizard-life and kick the bucket at some point. Nothing more. 

“But my destiny is a good one… at least with you around. And I don’t actually have to go around the mortal world and collect souls. No… They find me all on their own;  _ mostly _ . I’m simply there to be their caretaker and prevent them from escaping again or being stolen,” his ear was bitten into slightly, at which he whimpered. 

Harry sighed “If it could be reversed or something, I might be able to- ngh, consider it.” 

Again, he shuddered, as his earlobe was licked along enticingly. “Such a demanding master… I will experiment a little, just for you, hm... “ He absent-mindedly replied, but added all smugly, “Maybe we could… experiment in other areas as well?” But Harry vehemently shook his head, at which his servant pouted in disappointment “I see… But maybe I could spend some time with you? I love you so much, it hurts to leave your side for too long.” 

“If you heal my back without killing me too fast, sure. But didn’t you say you could not stay in this realm for long?” 

“Ah… but that was before we exchanged some soul, master. Your soul hides me from Life a little; also, she’s usually quite occupied in spring and summer. I can heal you slowly, a little each day, perhaps?” And, in return, they’d cuddle. Harry could live with that, he supposed. While he didn’t fancy having his mates around, who treated him unfairly, he didn’t want to be alone, either. “Oh, and I can take the pain away, right now. I’m such a good servant, am I not?” Death turned his master around on his back, which surprisingly didn’t hurt anymore. Harry found that to be a bit scary. 

But, nonetheless, he accepted the body, which was just as warm as his, and hugged him close. A blanket was somehow pulled over them, as the apprentice nuzzled into the other. On second thought, he requested “Can you place some kind of jinx on the room? If my Lord and Barty see you with me, they might flip out even more. Just something to keep them out…” He did not want to see, feel or hear of them. All of that would provoke thinking, which wasn’t very pleasing to him. 

His imposter-mate purred, saying “Of course, master. Everything you want.” The purring was very much like that of a cat somehow, which had him giggle. It did not surprise him that Death was pleased to not have the two appear. The being didn’t do as much as lift a finger, but Harry felt something shift in the magic around him, making him feel secure. It felt like he was at home, in some kind of happy, little nest of theirs. “Do you want me to make you fall asleep for a while longer? Maybe a few days?” 

“Hm… just until tomorrow. I’ve slept enough as is,” he answered, despite not knowing what to do with his time. School didn’t feel right, simply because Barty was there and lots of questions would arise again. And what else was there to do? He might as well have been dead in Purgatory, right now. 

“I can kill you if you want,” the other alughed darkly, kissing him. “I just need to take your pretty, little soul.” His kiss was all too pleasant at first, before it suddenly felt scary and a sense of ultimate doom washed over him. 

Shocked, he squeaked “W-What was that-” 

Blinking, his slave neutrally smiled. “I’m like my children, master. I can also take souls like this, although it’s rather… brutish. I don’t do it often,” he admitted to almost sucking Harry’s soul out of his body, which had the latter duck away and curl up more, so it couldn’t happen again. 

Grey eyes wide, he deadpanned “Don’t ever do that again.” 

“Okay,” he was happily, uncaringly replied and coddled again, which prompted him to relax again. “I love you, master…” 

“I know; love you, too,” he gave in and sighed. Being so close to Death seemed somehow right, pleasant. Unlike Tom and Barty, there was no weird energy in him, nevertheless, he felt addictive. Was this how his Inferi felt? And the Thestrals? Dementors? 

Smooth, calming voice, Death answered his unspoken questions “It’s similar, I do suppose. But you’re no Inferius, master. You’re something entirely new and beautiful! And this ‘ _ energy’ _ you felt, was their happiness. Quite tasty…” Had he always been able to do this?

“E-Er… am I becoming a Dementor?” Harry lifted his head up again, despite the edges of his vision growing dark and his mind pleading him to fall asleep. He had wanted to have that happiness, hadn’t he? 

“You’re becoming me, little master, if you only let it happen,” he was kissed again and blacked out without further possibility to argue.

* * *

 

One more day of rest turned into five, where Harry lazily cuddled with his servant and let himself be told stories of ancient times and famous Necromancers. Sometimes, Death even tried to explain to him, how the universe itself seemed to work. There was no need for food, water, air, or anything else. The Master of Death simply enjoyed the company and not having to be Harry Potter for quite a while. No need to worry about school, friends, relatives, and mates. He did not think any of it mattered right now, here, in his personal, little Purgatory. To him, the outside world behind the door to his room did not exist. Occasionally, he had heard stuff from outside his room at first, but that had been dealt with quickly by his supernatural friend. Somehow, he did not want to leave his exile anymore. 

Death always told him “Master, come home… I’ll take good care of you; I can do much more at home than here.” Nevertheless, he couldn’t. He still had a tether of life in him, connecting him to all of this, here. He could not run away from this. Not forever, anyway. 

With each day, he grew more numb, though. Sometimes, he simply sat in silence with the other for quite some time, not doing anything. Rushing things seemed pointless when he was immortal. He had all the time, there was. Maybe he’d exist long enough to forget, who he was. Who Fate wanted him to be, and who everyone else was. What was the point? All his friends would die, every last one of them. The war, his friendships, his worries, and his marriage was  _ pointless _ . They’d die, and he’d be alone. Safe for when he died, too. And even then… What would he do about Tom?

Tom was going to live, as long as he did.  He could rip his soul out of his own, but did he want to? And even if they agreed to have him die, it would be hell. His husband would be trapped in Purgatory, his soul unable to move on. He’d be alone, with all of the other damned, torn souls. He did not possess the heart to tell him that; that he had doomed himself to eternal suffering. To be alone. He doubted the other knew.

And what of Barty? He’d grow old; he’d die. If Harry stayed with Tom in Purgatory - as himself, not as Death - he’d be alone in the afterlife. And Crouch had been so very negative about Death and his change. He’d never agree to be turned undead. 

And what if he became Death? Which soul would willingly be with him anymore?

This was hell. This whole  _ plane of existence _ was hell. They were pointlessly suffering, only to suffer more in death. There was no escape. None at all. This was it; his life. 

He wished he had died in the mud.  _ Honestly _ died. Then he would have gone straight to the afterlife, and he would not have had a choice. Being forced was easier than having shitty options. It always had been, to him. 

On the fifth day, he sat on the edge of this foreign bed, in this foreign room, in this foreign world. Without a word, he began to cry. Despair was really the only thing, he felt anymore. He felt jealous of Death feeling possessiveness. The latter hugged his fully healed back, resting his weightless head on his shoulders, humming some ancient tone to him, trying to soothe him. 

When it helped none, he promised “If we’re together, you’ll feel better.” Harry did not believe one of his softly spoken words. They were together now and nothing felt good. None of it. “Better than the alternative.” Death was a demon, he felt. His master silently shook his head in denial, so he started advertising. “If we’re not together, you’ll be magically crippled for the rest of your life, master. You can’t use my magic if you reject it. There is no going back. Where would you go to? To your bond-mates? Hm… Oh, you don’t even want to know, what they’re doing without you, poor master…” Death pitied him, rubbing circles into his stomach, as he sighed and relaxed against his back. “They’re so ungrateful, those little humans.” The back of his neck was kissed, before the other stated “So often, they fought with you. So often, they tried to kill you. And you loved them, still, and they didn’t care. I’d never, master. Let me love you.” When he did not respond, he sighed “Should I show you, how little they care?” 

Harry shrugged. It didn’t matter if they cared or not. It didn’t matter if he became Death or not. All ended in suffering. 

A soft, unseeable material landed in his lap, which was invisible now. “Come, master.” Resistance futile, the Master of Death cloaked himself before he was apparated toward Barty’s room silently. But there was only Barty, sitting at his desk and supporting his head with one arm, as he read through some book. He was still wearing black - well, maybe Harry was dead to him, now. Perhaps the alcohol was simply more important? Harry wanted to ask, what he was supposed to see here, but an invisible hand closed his mouth, so he’d not blow their cover. Instead, he was pulled backward and flinched upon that, before landing on an old, worn out chair, right on top of a lap. “You’ve got to wait a minute, sweet master,” his inner demon cooed; he assumed only he could hear it. Maybe he had turned mad? 

As promised, a minute later, someone else joined their round. Although Harry secretly questioned, how Death could have known about this. The Dark Lord seemed exhausted again, as he went up to Barty, only to encircle his neck from behind. Already, Harry felt hurt. Riddle, meanwhile, did not notice him and matter-of-factly stated “You drank again.” But this shouldn’t be, should it? He could not hide from his bond-mate beneath his cloak. So Tom must have been actively suppressing the connection to him, which only insulted Harry further.  _ He _ was the hurt one, not the two of them!

“ ‘s not, like it matters…” Barty drawled and the other Death Eater could hear the edge in his voice. Had he done this to him? Was he to blame for this? He didn’t know, what to think. 

“He still hasn’t lifted the wards.” 

There, Bartemius harshly turned around, growling “It’s not  _ my _ fault!” 

“I didn’t say it was,” Tom wasn’t shocked by his outburst at all and simply leaned back a bit, nevertheless holding the chair’s rest with his hands. “I’m not here to make accusations, Barty, I simply informed you of the status quo.” Harry did not get, what he was supposed to see here. This was depressing, nothing more. This was just Tom remaining in his fake persona and Barty heartbroken. 

“The status quo can go fuck itself,” the older Death Eater barked, slamming his fist onto the table. With a loud creaking, it cried out in pain. “Show some emotion, for fuck’s sake! Are you a Gargoyle?” But at least Crouch noticed the other’s fakeness. Maybe they were well off on their own, after all. 

Red eyes unfalteringly stared at him in the dark of the room, before Tom hollowly asked “What do you want me to do? Start crying? It won’t make him come back; I’ll only look like a moron.” But he was wrong, Harry concluded. If his husband started to cry, he’d immediately comfort him. Such was his duty; his unholy companion did not appreciate this sentiment and trapped him in his hold more securely. He perceived an underlining growl. 

Still sitting, Barty spitefully laughed at his leader, mocking him. “Well, you ‘ere happy enough to, when he killed himself,” he drawled, pointing out an ugly truth, that Harry had almost anticipated. He then reached for a bottle beneath his table, pushing it in front of the other’s face “Let some steam off. You’re far nicer drunk.” The servant slyly grinned at the other, brave through his favorite beverage.

“And I’m at my nicest, when I’m passed out and vulnerable? No, thank you,” Riddle’s voice grew deadly, clearly alluding to their past, however.  

‘ _ What am I supposed to see here, Death? They’re just normal…’ _ the apprentice thought confusedly, but got no answer from the being, who was still stroking his stomach, occasionally kissing his neck. Was this like watching some movie to him?

But Barty did not give up, offering the bottle again “Come on… just a little. As if I’d do anything.” 

Annoyed, the Dark Lord took the bottle, resistance dying down far too quickly, “You’re insufferable.” But, nevertheless, he drank a considerable amount of it, before giving it back. “I don’t know, how you can drink that stuff every day,” he made a disgusted face and Harry grew livid, now. Tom was supposed to  _ help _ Barty, not join him in his illness!

“Not all of us can live on coffee, Tom… Hm… now you gotta stay here; can’t apparate drunk,” Barty smirkingly pointed out, before turning in his seat sideways, so he could face Tom more easily. He sneaked a hand toward him, touching his hand resting on the chair’s rest. 

“So your plan  _ is _ to bed me, after all; how noble of you. And there I thought you actually cared for my well-being for once,” Tom warily kept a close watch on the hand toying with his own. “You haven’t changed at all.” It did not sound accusing; there was a bitter-sweet fondness in his voice. 

The Professor openly grinned, as he pointed out “Oh, I’ve changed lots, you’ve just not been around to see it. Wanna see now?” He licked across his lips wants, making an offer. For once, Tom blushed. 

“Barty…” he started to say, but apparently did not know, what to do. So Barty decided for him, gently tugging at his hand to make him come to his front, instead of standing behind the chair. The tarnished Savior expected his husband to slap him for the action alone, but no such thing happened.

“Come here…” the Death Eater opened his arms, beckoning his Lord to sit on his lap. Had he gone mad? Had everyone gone nuts? This was wrong!

Tom, however, faltered “Ah… I don’t think this is a brilliant idea…” Harry sighed in relief; maybe they had not lost it entirely. Of course, his husband would not agree to Barty’s advances this easily. He was scared, in the end. It would have sucked if the only thing holding Tom back had been Harry himself. After all, he thought he was helping his master, so his absence should not be positive for his development.

But Crouch wouldn’t have it and soothed the other “I told you I changed. It’s not like it was and we don’t uh… need to go too far. Just a bit- I really… I need something to-” 

“Distract yourself with?” Tom sighed and, to Harry’s horror, actually agreed to sit on his lap, his movements slightly insecure, still. “Me, too,” Tom replied sheepishly, before mustering up the courage to touch Barty’s chest, as his middle was pulled closer a little. When Barty didn’t ravish him already, the dark mage huffed “Not going to break, Barty.” That was all it took for some lips to descend upon his and the mightier Necromancer’s heart to shatter. What was this? What did this mean?

His mouth hung open, as Tom made a little, approving noise and pressed closer, just before Harry perceived a flash of tongue. Another moan, and Barty pushed the Dark Lord’s fancy, outer robes off his shoulders with ease, annoyed by the layers of fabric. 

Huskily, Barty growled “Merlin, I’ve mh wanted to do this for ages… fucking robes…” He then went for the older male’s neck, sucking at it like some kind of vampire and creating dark bruises, while his hair was gripped at. “Told you, you were nicer like this, mh…” The situation quickly escalated, the two adults needier than they had cared to admit. Before Harry had even the chance to flee in a sense of blind betrayal, a hand was down Tom’s pants and the latter heavily leaned against his Death Eater, shuddering and softly whimpering in his arms. “Shit... I wanna fuck you so bad, mh-” Barty growled, as the other writhed on top of him, mind hazy, but not  _ that _ hazy. 

“Ah- N-No…” Riddle hastily declined and Harry - even through his devastation - prepared to come to his rescue. But there was no need for such, when Barty remained calm and continued his handjob, not thinking to take it too far. Squishy sounds emitted and he saw his own husband, who was supposed to be bloody  _ terrified _ , grind into him further with no hint of restraint. 

To make the situation worse, Death murmured “See, my poor master? They don’t care at all. Isn’t it funny, how easily the death-defyer gave in? Give him some more days, some more alcohol, and he lets him do everything.” Harry bitterly agreed in his mind. “Hm… and you had to work so hard for all those privileges, didn’t you? He didn’t even ask, what you wanted, saying he was too scared. And now? Oh…” On cue, Tom’s moans grew more desperate and he started to shudder, before presumably coming. Harry averted his eyes, not wanting to see. “He’s giving himself away to his rapist, rather than his caring husband. Master, he doesn’t care, he lied. Don’t you see?” 

Blindly, he nodded along at his servants’ words. He did  _ see _ . How could he not? The whole situation was unfolding right before him, his eyes burning from looking at it. It wasn’t that he thought of this as cheating. He could have lived with that. But this? Had this charming orphan tricked him to believe in some other persona of his? There was no fear, no resistance, as Barty sloppily kissed him again. 

“There is no obsession anymore, there is only love, sweet master. He loves his little protegee - his old, original one - more than you. He came first, you’re his substitute. I suppose, now that you’re gone, he simply went for the original. Way more efficient, I suppose,” Death freely hypothesized, before cruelly adding “The first apprentice of a master is always a special one, hm? The others never come quite close. Maybe you’re too boring. Too  _ good _ . Maybe he needs someone darker, with a tainted soul. Not someone perfect, like you. He wants his old apprentice back.” 

“N-No-” the youngest Death Eater sobbed, not wanting to believe any of this. But now, in this hell-hole, he couldn’t push those ideas out of his head. They were too vivid, too real. 

Another kiss to his earlobe, his servant mulled “Everything he did with you, everything he taught you- All of it, the other has done it before. You were never special to your husband, lovely. Tell me, didn’t he enjoy bedding you in your little mask and robes a bit too much? Didn’t he give in to your requests to spare that little protegee a bit too easily? Hm… Precious, do you think your horrid mate’s incapable of casting a Patronus, as you call it?” Harry did not want to know. He just didn’t- that would only further confirm those accusations. “Oh, or  _ maybe _ they just don’t want to tell you? Maybe they don’t want you to see that little, adorable fox. You haven’t checked, have you? Master… you’re far too pure for those humans to defile you. There is no such thing as an unworthy wizard. There are no maggots; only lies. It’s a children's’ tale.” 

Barty wobbly stood up, only to take a giggling Dark Lord with him and place him on his bed. The Master of Death did not want to know, what followed. He felt like falling, nowhere to hold on to anymore. He turned around then and hugged his servant. Death did not feel safe, not alive enough, but he was at least something. Wordlessly, he felt himself being apparated again, back to his room, his imperfect, small Purgatory. His back landed on the bed, which still felt impossibly soft and beckoned him to fall asleep and forget all of this. The luke-warm body on top of his had the same effect, as had the hand raking through his hair. 

Kisses were placed all over his skin, as the possessive creature proposed “Dear master… Do you see now? I only wanted your best, only wanted to protect you from such unfairness. Let me love you; I’m not unfair. I’m just death - everybody becomes equal through me. It’s my nature to be like this. It’s my nature to love you, such a bright soul. Let me love you...” 

It didn’t matter anymore. Cynical, Harry decided the creature would at least be  _ forced _ to love him. Death could not escape him, could not disobey. He was an energy, nothing more. Something, which begged to be used.  This time, Harry would be the first to do it. This time, he chose to do this! He was fed up by being the victim, rolling over and taking it. He was more than a destined sacrifice, more than a fucktoy or convenient ally. He wanted to leave this plane, he deserved better. 

“Do it, then.” Harry snapped at the other, at which he felt his imposter-mate smiling against his neck wickedly. 

With no further warning, the Master of Death felt himself break through the ice of the lake. Fake-Tom was assisting him in his foolish death, pushing him down under the water to drown. There was nothing sacred about this, nothing serene. The teen only felt scared, as his innermost being seemed to be infested with something else. 

Calm, frosty voice, Death cooed at him “Very well, master.  _ Oh _ \- You really are too pure. Hopefully, you won’t hate me - us - for this. I apologize for the pain, once you wake up, in advance. Being dead for two months is quite the trouble, I’m afraid. But we can heal ourselves, don’t worry. Hm… just need to listen to our intuition, there.” 

 

‘ _ Being dead-' _

* * *

 

“-I’m telling you; he’s awake!” 

“If this is some sick joke of yours, I’m killing you, runt.” 

“But he is!” 

Harry perceived steps coming closer now and tried to lift his head, but it was too heavy for him. He wasn’t used to this kind of physical state of being. The sense of Déjà-vu was all-encompassing. Nevertheless, he tried to see, who was approaching him. He rested on his stomach again, his back hurt. Upon trying to piece things together, his head hurt, as well. A warm, comforting hand did something to his hair, before his cheek was gently touched. 

“Love?” The Master of Death tried to show a sign of life, but failed. His body was unwilling to comply, even his eyelids too heavy to open. “ _ Barty _ , he’s not-” 

“But I felt him! He- He’s awake!” 

Harry had to do something, but what? He knew his body had been dead for too long, had dried up and decayed. The nerves were damaged, unable to do his magic’s bidding. As a Necromancer, he’d never use a body like this. Too much work; fresh was easier. But he had no choice had he? So, not questioning the _ why  _ and  _ how _ for now - that would come later - he manipulated his magic, making it softly flow around and into his body. 

This had two effects. Firstly, his corpse was healed and made ready to be inhabited again, secondly, Tom must have felt the change of magic. “Oh god- He is!” Warm hands investigated him further, now two pairs. They tickled him on sheer accident, but he could not giggle, yet. Renovating his house, so to say, took some time. 

But, once he was finished, he felt quite proud. He opened his eyes, blinking repeatedly to make them work properly. But, meanwhile, other, more abstract things cleared up, as well. Raspy, Harry chocked out in horror “...I fucked up-” 

But when he wildly stared at his two lovers standing at the edge of Barty’s bed, they entirely ignored this. Instead, he was gleefully regarded and his mates surely would have loved to crush him with a hug, had he not been injured. Disbelieving, Tom touched his cheek again, while the other patted his hand. “You’re awake…” his husband insecurely said, as if he’d pass out any moment now and die again. Maybe he  _ should _ .

“I… guess I am, yeah,” the Master of Death worriedly declared. “What day is it?” 

Barty confusedly stammered, really wanting to say far more important things, “Mid J-June....” 

No, this couldn’t be right. This ought to be wrong! “And have I been awake before?” Harry summoned his wand, casting a healing charm on himself, as the two shook their heads. This was bad - catastrophic. He had anticipated this in his hazy thoughts upon waking up and coming to his senses, but still. All of it had been a dream- no, that wasn’t quite right. He had been dead and in Purgatory, hadn’t he? Suddenly, everything seemed to fit. 

In the Chamber of Secrets, Death had tried to lure him into merging. When Harry found out he wasn’t in reality and only unconscious, though, he had changed his tactics. Death had made him think he had survived and had woken up, living through all those horrible days in the Headboy’s quarters. Making him break, so he could convince him. But the Master of Death had died and had been dead for two months. It was June, not May. He was Death, not Harry. 

Freaking out, he sat up and pushed away the hands of the two others, fearing their safety. Again, he whimpered “I fucked up- Merlin… This can’t be happening, this has to be a-another dream- this- this has to be Purgatory! You aren’t real!” But his intuition told him they were, although he simply did not want it to be true. He felt their souls,  _ saw _ them, and he could feel their pleasant happiness and life-force, too. He wanted, deep down, to possess it. All of it. 

Tom and Barty looked at each other in concern, obviously not understanding his mental breakdown. They could call themselves lucky, Harry thought. “Sunshine, what are you talking about? We are the real deal…” 

But they soon came to understand, when the windows behind Harry started to freeze up because of his emotional outburst. Horrified, the Master of Death jumped off the bed - quite to his mates’ dismay -  and got some distance between him and the window. But that only made it worse; he panicked as he couldn’t hear his footsteps at all. But his bare feet should have made some sort of sound on the wooden floor, shouldn’t they have? Tom and Barty carefully approached him, as he distanced himself. They had their wands out, probably thinking he was a danger to himself. But he was a danger to  _ them _ . Despite those weird occurrences, Tom softly tried to comfort him, to get him to comply “Love, everything’s alright. Whatever happened, I’m sure it’s okay. Please, put your wand away and let’s talk.” 

Did they think he wanted to attack them? He sheepishly looked down at himself and saw his deathly pale hand gripping the Elder Wand fiercely. He wanted to put it away, but the two dark wizards came closer again, so he demanded “Stop coming closer!” What if they touched him and died? Or if they kissed him and he sucked their soul out of their bodies? The two did as told and Riddle innocently held up his hands. Barty did no such thing, but at least smiled at him. He wasn’t wearing black, Harry noticed in relief. Not this time. Nevertheless, he felt trapped and stressed out, as he backed up into Barty’s desk - no bottles stood on it. 

The Dark Lord then calmly suggested “Now, why don’t you tell us, what your problem is, hm? So we can solve it? If you think I am angry because you splinched yourself, don’t worry. You were sick and I ah… might have provoked you to disappear. I should have known, what you’d do.” Harry agreed there, although he did not blame his husband for anything at all. “And I’m certain Barty, here, isn’t angry, either.” He only blamed himself, his naivety - purity, as Death had sugarcoated it so lovingly.

“Nah, never,” his favorite supported him also and the smaller Death Eater wanted nothing more than to hug them. But he couldn’t. 

Sobbing, he felt overwhelmed by the intensity of his emotions, but he, at last, vanished his wand and leaned against the desk behind him. Rubbing his tears away, Harry wondered about his eyes. Were they grey? But he had to tell them, what had happened. So he started, trying to regain his composure “Death- He… I am Death. W-We merged…” He failed in that goal, whimpering at Tom’s changing facial expression. Would he leave him now? Tom was afraid of dying - he had every right to - that meant he was afraid of Death. If Harry was Death, how could he love him?

“You  _ what _ ?” Now, he wasn’t his softly spoken, comforting husband anymore. Now he was his disappointed master, afraid he had fallen from grace.

But Harry defended himself “Master, I died- I… But I didn’t know! Death trapped me in Purgatory and m-made me think I was alive! And he- he told me stuff and I was confused and I- I told him to love me and h-he did  _ this _ ! I didn’t want to-” He sat on the wooden desk, which was already frosting up again, Harry feeling like breaking down again. Upon his lovers’ bewildered looks, he went on “I- I didn’t want any of this… Please, d-don’t-” He did not know, what he wanted them not to do. Leave him? Touch him? Again, he felt like hyperventilating, but there was no need for air, no need for a heart or blood.

Tom frowned at him and took a step toward his husband, only for the ground to freeze up more, in quite a frightening way, and Harry to hiss. So he stopped in his tracks and tried to calm him down “Love, Harry, you couldn’t have died. I mean…  _ I  _ am fine. Nothing happened to my Horcrux. Maybe you simply dreamed and these are new powers? You’re just you, I’m certain-” 

“Just because my soul was in Purgatory, doesn’t mean yours had to be, too. He- I-  _ We _ attached it to my…  _ this _ body. The body is your Horcrux, not the soul,” Harry intuitively replied, the knowledge coming from Merlin-knows-where. Harry’s head felt ready to burst. Was he still Harry? Was he Death- both? Was he an ‘ _ I’ _ or a ‘ _ We _ ’?  

This seemed logical to the other, but was not enough proof “And what other developments would indicate you having merged? Love, I can even feel our bonds with each other. You’re fine!” Why was his mate so optimistic? Harry blankly stared at his hands, wondering, if they had always looked like this.

Reporting like a dutiful Death Eater, he told his master “I can’t breathe, I have no heartbeat, my eyes probably changed color-” Tom squinted his eyes, before reluctantly nodding. “-My magic was… replaced. My steps are silent and I know I could go to Purgatory now if I wanted to.” Hollow, the apprentice added “I can see your soul, feel your happiness, your life-force. I know I can take them away if I wanted to.” 

‘ _ This has to be a joke… Please, Merlin-’ _

“I can hear Barty’s thoughts without looking at him,” Harry drawled, before looking up at his lovers again. He dreaded other abilities, which might present themselves. Why had Death done this to him? This wasn’t helping!

Barty, who was fairly convinced of his words, questioned “How did he make you agree to this? Aren’t you supposed to be his master? I mean… Seems fishy.” 

He wanted to answer but was too embarrassed to. He had agreed because of jealousy, because of his lovers and their supposedly deep, hidden connection. Harry should have been happy for them, instead, he had been spiteful. These two souls were  _ his _ ; he ought to protect them and that did not include being angry at them for loving each other. Weak, but drawing courage from foreign sources, the undead explained “In Purgatory, I er… thought everything was real. You two were there, but we fought. Barty, you were d-drunk and you were so against me, somehow. And master supported you, instead of me! I got angry and sent you away, staying with Death for a while. He then… showed me something. He- He told me I was…” But not even Death’s passive courage could help him. It was mortifying to talk about this, about his own stupidity. 

Swallowing, Crouch became uncomfortable but tried to animate him even then “Sunshine, what did he tell you?” 

Harry feared the two would hate him now. He was barely himself anymore, was he? And the parts, which were him, were all deeply flawed. Wiping away his tears in vain, the tarnished Savior replied “He told me that I… I was only a substitute for you! And that master would n-now want you back, instead of me- Merlin, I- I was so fucking stupid! He said you two would now a-abandon me, because you h-had each other... And because I was undead. Everything just bloody sucked, so I- agreed. I couldn’t be alone.” The Legilimense was glad the two were thinking too fast for him to understand. He couldn’t bear to hear, what they thought of him now. He wanted to go home to Purgatory. He wanted to be with his bunch of happy souls in the afterlife, if only to watch over them for a while. They’d not let him come near, but at least he could watch someone happier than him. 

Tom only cocked his head at him, however, wondering “Why would I only want one of you if I can have two of you? Love, whenever did you become this jealous? That’s ah… usually my role.” He next ignored the frosty floor and stepped closer finally, just for his mate to hiss a warning at him. Only for him to hiss back in Parsel, albeit comfortingly. With no further hesitation, he touched his undead husband and embraced him, cooing “You are still yourself, love. You still feel the same, still smell the same… You’re just you. Just your magic is different, that’s all.” With a desperate noise, Harry clung to his partner, who was so warm, so vivid and alive. Riddle stroked over his back gently, happily breathing in his scent. “I’m just glad to have you back. You can’t imagine, how I missed you.” Oh, he could. In those ‘ _ 5 days,’ _ he had missed them far too much, even though his numbness had been omnipresent.

Barty, from the sidelines, voiced “U-Uh… I missed you lots, too.” He still seemed rather apprehensive about the ice and everything, not decided on a course of action, yet. 

His master withdrew, which filled Harry with fear at first, but his hand was taken and he was lead toward Barty’s familiar bed, guided to sit on it. With his emotions calmed, the room seemed to heat up again - although the two wizards probably had not minded about a bit of cool air on a hot summer day - and Crouch Jr finally warmed up, also, walking toward them. Harry was pulled onto his husband’s lap, who shuffled backward and leaned against the wall behind them, holding him close and never intending to let him go again. The older Death Eater joined them, sitting next to the Dark Lord and taking it upon himself to stroke along his smaller mate’s back.

Harry felt his comfy pillow’s breathing to become erratic, a carefully constructed persona falling apart again. Not commenting, he hugged his broken soul closer, showing him his support in silence. Barty, however, favored a different approach. Patting Tom’s shoulder now, as the older male stubbornly declined to face him again, he hummed “Now, don’t cry again. He’s here now!” That yielded no results, though, so he shuffled closer as he grumbled something to himself and somehow managed to squish his own arm between the wall and Tom’s middle, awkwardly embracing him. To Harry, he whispered “Sunshine, don’t you want to do something? Like- you’ve got to have some trick to make him stop. I never manage to. And he’s  _ always _ crying.” 

“You’re a fucking dick, Bartemius!” Clearly, Tom did not appreciate having his dirty secret of regularly crying about his primary mate’s coma unveiled. 

“See? He only becomes angry. None of the usual stuff works,” he tsked, which prompted the Master of Death with his own, puffy eyes to giggle for the first time in two months. “Nothing helps. No anecdotes, no cuddling, no teasing or kisses!” To demonstrate his findings, he kissed the Dark Lord’s cheek, who - to Harry’s guilty relief - growled. “He’s so huffy all the time. He should be called the Huffy Lord, not the Dark Lord.”

“I hate you,” Tom protested against Harry’s ear, although it was directed at his other servant. 

Smug and pretty sure of himself, Barty licked along his lips “Hm, I think you love me, though. And I think Harry here thinks the same.” And, yes, Harry did, which had been the reason for his idiotic downfall. But was it really that? He didn’t feel certain. For now, he could not feel any immediate change in his personality. And, surely, his mates would have told him? 

His inner voice mulled ‘ _ Well, he told you this would not change your personality. He has none, so this is only you.’ _ The voice sounded weird, alien, which contradicted its own point. 

“Tom, tell me you love me and I’ll shut up,” the Professor teased again, before placing another kiss against his temple. “Come on… I know you don’t  _ not _ love me.” When no answer followed again, Barty huffed “Sunshine, you think he loves me, right?”

Having to smile again, Harry laughed “Of course, Barty.” How could he not? With interest, he observed the other Death Eater’s soul doing a happy  _ quiver _ of sorts. Transfixed on that, he reached forward with his hand, but it collided with the other’s chest, the soul right behind his flesh. 

“U-Uh… what are you doing…?” Barty stared at him pushing against his chest, slightly offended. He thought Harry was trying to push him away, but he’d never. 

Still fixated on the shiny bubble of joy, the Master of Death hummed “I like your soul, but I can’t touch it like this. I think you have to die for that…” A hundred ways to kill his lover came to mind, but he didn’t want that. “It looks so happy, though… I want to have it.” He stared up into his partner’s eyes, who looked at him like a fox in headlights. 

“S-Sunshine… you’re becoming a bit creepy, there,” he nervously chuckled, before looking at Tom for help. “And I uh… kinda need my soul. Also, you already have his soul in parts. What do you want mine for?” 

Harry shrugged, he had no idea. He simply wanted to possess his soul and had no clue, what he’d then proceed to do with it. Dote over, presumably. Sly, he then decided “You should give me parts of yours. Then you can be immortal, too.” Barty’s mortality was kind of a problem. “Or I have to make you undead.” 

“Barty will  _ not _ be making Horcruxes, love. I thought we discussed this topic enough,” Tom came back to the living and participated in their talk again, looking kind of hurt. 

Luckily, Harry could now see, why. “Master, don’t worry. I like your soul all the same, even if it’s torn. I still think it is pretty! And… yes, I suppose that would be a bad idea.” Should he tell Tom, what was awaiting him? He couldn't fathom to do so. He couldn’t make his mate be afraid of him. And, maybe, he’d never die, anyway. 

Sheepishly, Riddle’s face heated up “You really can read  _ all _ of my mind now, hm? Serpent, that’s a little... “ Tom didn’t even seem to have a word in mind, which could describe that, which was unusual. It was a complete invasion of privacy, that was for sure. “Anyway, we’ll just make him a vampire.” 

“W-What?” Crouch Jr was apparently not taking a liking to these ideas, so he quickly changed the topic “No, you won’t! And you haven’t answered me. Say you love me-” Red eyes were rolled in annoyance, so he pointed out “I cared for you for two whole months, what more do you want? You slept in my bed, you used my shower, you  _ cuddled _ with me-

“-Not, that you complained-”

“-and I had to comfort you!”

“You fucking cried all the time, too!” The  _ Huffy _ Lord replied, true to his new title. Harry was simply glad he had something to laugh about, something to distract himself with. Although, he was touched by these revelations, of course.  

Pouting, the Death Eater reminded “If you don’t say it, you won’t get to have a summer vacation in my manor.” In shock, the Master of Death realized, how close the summer vacation was actually. And how long he had not seen his friends. Hopefully, this Barty had told them he was on a mission. Without having to ask, he saw he had, so he relaxed in Tom’s hold again. This reality was far better than the one constructed by Death. 

“You’re my servant, Bartemius. I can make you do, whatever I want,” the orphan let his head loll toward Barty, mocking him. When he wanted to retort something again, their Lord held his hand up to make him stop, smiling. “But - as a response to your earlier point - I do not despise you, yes.” 

Helping his fellow brother out, Harry invaded Barty’s mind to clarify ‘ _ That means he loves you and is just too proud to tell you. Or he just likes fucking with you.’ _

‘ _ Oh, I wish the last statement was true, baby brother... Also, get out of my head, imp. This is scary.’ _ Despite his unwillingness to share his mind, Barty leaned over and placed his lips on Harry’s with a pleased sound. ‘ _ You don’t wanna know, what I do in here.’ _

The apprentice smirked against his lips, as he simultaneously felt his master growing jealous at them conversing in secret. Apparently, he couldn’t breach Harry’s mind that easily anymore if he wanted to. Death incarnate was smooched for quite a while, until his lover had to withdraw, short of breath. 

Seductively, Barty laughed “I’m so going to abuse you not needing to breathe, brother.” 

“Can’t wait for that,” Harry chuckled but felt overjoyed within his mind. His mate wasn’t disgusted by him, after all! He had anticipated him to be appalled since he was a corpse, now. A good-looking one, but still. He had a small glimmer of hope that these next weeks would be quite interesting. Hopefully, not devastating instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Harry, huh? But at least his mates are there to help him out. Next chapter will go a bit easier on the poor guy. I always try to have some sort of comedic relief in there after these stressful passages and this one was quite long. So next chapter will be nice. But, afterward, he will suffer more >:)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for all the kudos and all of your comments! I know there are quite a few words to read in the series, so thanks for being here! I don't take you reading this for granted; I myself sometimes shy away from fics, which are too long. So, really, thank you a lot <3


	7. Sharing is caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks to his friends and lovers, as he feels frightened to be abandoned by them. Afterward, the summer vacation starts a bit rocky with some misunderstandings and new revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I really tried to keep the angst to a minimum. But I did not want to have such an extreme cut, so there is a bit of drama in the chapter, too. Next chapter will be nice and fluffy, though!

**Chapter 7**

**Sharing is caring**

* * *

* * *

 

This was good, this was perfect. Harry rested in Barty’s warm arms, who leaned against the headboard of his bed, idly stroking over his back with a thumb. It was early morning, far too early to be up, normally. Next to them, Tom did the only sensical thing - he slept in relative peace, sleeping on his stomach and pressing his head into the white pillow. So, why were the two others awake? Well, the Master of Death did not need to sleep anymore and after his two months of ‘ _ sleep’ _ , he did not feel like forcing himself to sleep even more, either. For some selfless reason, Crouch Jr had decided to stay up with him, despite Harry trying to order him to do otherwise. He did not like his soul putting himself at risk like that.

Silently, Barty murmured against his hair, as he glanced at Tom “He had nightmares again; pretty bad ones if you ask me. I tried to help… but I don’t think they’ll become better, soon.” Harry wished he could say he had not anticipated this. He felt guilty for having hurt his husband again, for having scared him. The orphan had a pretty hard time dealing with being left alone, abandoned, even. Harry was scared of Tom’s death, too, for this reason. He would be abandoned, ultimately. He’d be left alone in Limbo, ‘ _ repenting’ _ for his sins. Even then, listening to the soft snoring of his master, the apprentice couldn’t fathom to tell him that. 

The former human clung to his other mate, then, pushing his face into his neck. Promising, he whimpered “I’ll try to do some research again… “ But would that even help? What sense was there to help him? All of it seemed so pointless, nowadays. 

Somehow, Barty must have felt his emotional distress, perhaps through their bond. Their link seemed muddied; somehow weaker. As if it had been ripped from him and sloppily reattached. That was probably the case, Harry decided. After all, he had exchanged his own magic for that of Death. Perhaps the latter had bonded Barty and Tom to himself - no, to  _ them _ . There was no Death and no Harry anymore. There was only an imperfect ‘ _ we’,  _ Harry thought. 

“What’s wrong, hm? Wanna talk about it some more?” Barty offered himself for a pep talk, his words soft and loving. Harry did not know, how he deserved all of this. And how was his mate able to give so much emotional support? He himself felt so drained at times when he tried to cheer someone else up.

Giving up on his will to remain secretive, Harry held onto his mate, while explaining his troubles “It’s… difficult to describe. I somehow feel like nothing matters anymore. You’re all just going to die, and you’re all just going to end up in the afterlife, where I care for you. So, why even bother with this life? We could just end it right here and now…” Weird, hadn’t Death proposed the same thing to him once? He had not understood the sentiment, then, - he wished he could remember his own, old resistance, now. How could he have argued against this? Perhaps he had been too narrow-minded back then. He wanted to be naive.

Taken aback by such a fundamental question, the bright Hufflepuff had to think for a minute. But he soon concluded “Well… because life is fun?” He sheepishly smiled at Harry, knowing he wasn’t as well with words as Tom. Or perhaps he simply did not want to be.

“But the afterlife is heaven compared to this. It’s perfect.” 

“Yeah, but… Problems and challenges are kind of neat, don’t you think? Keeps the mind sharp and makes you feel good if you tackle them. And I guess you uh… grow as a person or something like that,” the older male shrugged nonchalantly as if he did not care at all about his own death, but Harry found his point of view to be somewhat eye-opening. He wanted to possess this calm, laid-back kind of wisdom. Harry’s own kind of wisdom seemed confused and erratic, even. 

Kissing his lovely soul for a moment, Harry thought about this idea further. But he also had other problems, which his lover might be able to solve for him. So the younger one further admitted “Do you… do you think I’m still me? Like- Harry? Because I’m not so sure…” He wanted to be as optimistic as Tom. The latter believed he had only exchanged his magic, nothing more. “I think differently and feel… weird. Like this is all new, somehow. And I er… don’t feel like this is my home, anymore. Purgatory is…” His heart was aching to go back there and go even deeper; he wanted to visit his souls. He also wanted to meet the new ones, which constantly trickled in there, he knew. Barty’s room felt slightly foreign, not all that homey, anymore.

Momentarily, the Death Eater embraced him with slightly more determination and force. The Master of Death felt relieved that someone desired him to stay. “You’re still my cute, little brother. Your magic is completely different, but I don’t mind, sunshine. And the only thing different about your personality is you being a bit creepy with my soul. Maybe you two did merge… but if you did, it can’t be too bad. After all, you still love me and - let’s be honest - who else would?” Barty used the chance to insult himself, regarding him with a sense of morbid humor. Smooching him once, he also complimented him “And I kinda dig your grey eyes…” 

Harry had to giggle at that. Maybe he was right - this couldn’t be too bad if their triangle still worked out, could it? What else was even important- “Er… but what do I tell Ron, Hermione and everyone else?” Well, his friends and family were kind of relevant, he suddenly realized. He couldn’t tell them, what had happened. He didn’t even feel like he could face them tomorrow. But he still had a few weeks of school. “Hell, I can’t meet them this soon…” he whispered more to himself than his boyfriend. His head felt like it would burst soon and he had to sort out things, before telling anyone about it. He had to become laid-back like Barty! His back was caressed by a warm hand again and his panic subsided. 

“You don’t have to, brother. I don’t think waiting another week or so will hurt. I told them you were on a mission, so it should be fine. And uh… Maybe just tell them you died and turned? That should be enough. You worry too much, sunshine. Just stay here and relax for a bit,” his Professor shrugged, his intentions not entirely selfless. Harry knew Barty was glad to have him in his possession. That was good because Harry and Death liked being owned. Somehow, the other Death Eater would have been better off as Death incarnate, he felt. He would handle this better. “Let me deal with stuff for a while… I don’t mind, really.” 

Thankful, the younger one chirped silently “Thank you, Barty… But- Is everything alright with you, too?” He remembered, however, his mate was also prone to having issues. And he was out of the loop more than he dared to admit. Maybe something horrible had happened to him? 

Chuckling deeply, the Professor toyed with his dark hair briefly. “Oh, I’m doing fine. Tom made me part of the Inner Circle. It’s a lot of work, I guess, but it’s okay. At least I get to practice my Cruciatus a bit more… I’m just a bit stressed out because I haven’t found anything, yet-”   
“-Er, on what?” Harry cocked his head in confusion, not understanding. 

“Oh, on the murders of Gibbon and the others. Our Lord has me search for a mole, but I haven’t found any leads. I don’t think he’s angry with me, though…” On second thought, the more experienced Death Eater glanced toward Riddle, before whispering “I know he doesn’t want you in on this, but hell, who cares? Harry, we literally can’t find a thing. It’s like they just dropped dead and nobody knows a thing. I don’t think there really is a mole. Do you know anything?” Harry felt confused by that question at first but quickly came to understand. Of course, asking Death about someone dying made sense. 

He searched his mind, listened to his intuition, tapped into his innermost being - and found exactly nothing to show for himself. “I… don’t know. I can’t see anything, that’s for sure.” He felt like a barrier had been put in place, right in front of his eyes. But how? And why? But, most importantly, by whom? It could not have been himself. Maybe this had been done by Death prior to their merging? Because, if he thought more closely about it, he couldn’t exactly tell, how someone else had died, either. Or perhaps this simply wasn’t a thing, Death kept track of? His head hurt and Barty was pouting at him, so he returned his attention to other matters. “I’m sure it’s just someone clever, we need to find. Also, how dangerous can they be? Three Death Eaters in six months?” That wasn’t even half a Death Eater per month. He could do better. 

A tongue flicked out shortly, before retreating again. “Sunshine, it’s not only them anymore. Four- No, five! Five werewolves have been killed, too. I mean… we’ve got plenty of them, but still. Tom thinks it’s an attempt at making them disloyal. I don’t believe that, though. I guess they are trying to warn us against doing something. Assholes just didn’t tell us, what we shouldn’t do.” Harry sighed since these weren’t the kinds of information he wanted to hear. He wanted to have some good news for a change. 

“Has anything else happened, while I was gone?” The apprentice wondered, before softly tracing a finger over the back of Tom’s arm, which lay exposed next to him. The Master of Death knew the other would not perceive much more than a bit of air if he wanted to. 

But, luckily, Barty shook his head “No, not really. Hogwarts was boring as hell… There were almost no raids for me since I was busy. When I wasn’t torturing people, I had to care for  _ this _ guy, who won’t even tell me he loves me!” Crouch was still deeply offended by that little fact and pouted cutely again. “Three little words! Why is that so hard…” But his slight amusement died down, replaced by honest sorrow. Apparently, the lack of love in Tom truly hurt his feelings. 

So Harry started to reassure him - like a good mate, who did not leave for two months, did - and caressed his shoulders “He took ages to tell me, too. He simply has some trust-issues, don’t worry. Also, I told him to only do things if they’re earnest... “ That had come out wrong, his lover looking even more flustered. “No- He does like you, don’t worry. He could tell you he loves you right now, but that would not be honest, because he uses his public personality for that. And then you’d want to get into his pants, which would make him afraid. So he will only tell you, once he’s er… okay with that.” Harry prayed this made sense to the other. Usually, things like these remained between Tom and himself. But he felt Barty had a right to know, too. 

“Soo… if he tells me he loves me, I can fuck him?” Barty had a slightly lusty look in his eyes, as they shifted toward the vulnerable body in his bed. Harry could not blame him for being kind of tactless, there - Barty’s libido was rather high and Harry had been gone for two months. Contented, he could not perceive the residue of anyone else’s magic or soul on  _ his _ soul. So, truly, Crouch had stayed faithful to him. The Necromancer could not say he had expected that of him, even though he felt guilty for that, now. But he had heard one too many rumors of Barty extending his ‘ _ brotherly love’ _ to more than one brother in the past, hence his suspicion. They did not have an open relationship, of course. So, if Barty had indeed become unfaithful, Harry would have been pretty irritated by that. 

“Hm… maybe. Also, who says you will fuck him? Maybe it’s the other way around.” 

“Nah, I think not. I might have been up to that, when I was young, but not now, sunshine. I just can’t lie there and be all ‘ _ Oh, merciful master! Please fuck my tender ass-’ _ No, not going to happen, sorry,” his boyfriend smiled at him sheepishly, as Harry grew offended of his derogatory portrayal of his part. “But I like it, when you do that, of course… God, I so can’t imagine you on top.” Again, Harry felt his pride being injured and he had to suppress the urge to hiss at the other. 

Growling silently, he pointed out “I’m not some sort of cry-baby, you know? I’m perfectly capable of topping!” 

“Yeah? So… how is it- with you two?” The Hufflepuff slyly took the chance to get some info out of him, as if they were two gossiping school-girls. They might as well have been. His mate tried to coax the knowledge out of him by rubbing his butt, promising a reward.  

Sticking his tongue out, he huffed “I don’t kiss and tell. If you want to know, you’ll have to watch.” He felt this would breach Tom’s trust in him. The other was very insecure about submitting to him under normal circumstances. So, he’d only tell or show Barty, if his husband was okay with it. 

Smirking to himself, the adult proposed “Well… You kind of have to thank me for taking you to my manor, so… I guess watching you two would be a good payment.” 

“We’ll see about that,” Harry shook his head, before resting it against the warm chest of his lover. He liked this version of Barty far better. He knew he should have been happy for Tom and him being close, but he just couldn't. They were  _ his _ , so they ought to follow his guidance. ‘ _ Merlin, what am I thinking?’ _ Harry had the sense to wonder about his possessiveness. The Dark Lord and his brother weren’t puppets waiting to be controlled by him. ‘ _ You know they are, though.’ _ He had to stop these tendencies before they grew worse. Nevertheless, they demanded to be appeased and a sense of fright spread in his unbeating heart. So he whispered, “You won’t leave me, right?” The idea seemed so real and scary to him, somehow. The temperature dropped in turn and he perceived Tom shifting around next to him. 

“Of course, not! I love you,” his mate consoled him, despite the question coming out of nowhere. 

Peacefully, Harry took in a deep, unnecessary breath, and hummed “Good, because I love you, too.” He always would, he knew. 

Another hand suddenly landed on his thigh, which startled the dark mage somewhat. Grumpily, his husband murmured “Shut up… I’m trying to sleep…” Apparently, they had woken him up. Or rather Harry had by making the room so cold.

Taking the chance, Crouch Jr blackmailed him “Only if you tell me you love me!” 

“Hm…” That elicited a noise from Riddle, which could have been interpreted as positive. Before Barty could tease him further, he went lax again and Harry felt him being asleep through the bond. 

His boyfriend wanted to annoy him further, but he stopped him quickly. “Leave him be… I’m glad he’s sleeping at all.” Harry somehow felt like some sort of mother-hen but did not mind. He liked caring for the two.

* * *

 

Harry also enjoyed caring for his friends, however. After almost a week of staying in bed, cuddled up to either Barty or Tom, sometimes both, he felt himself to be ready to face them. Barty had given him so many pep talks over the course of six days, he felt like the most confident person on this plane of existence. Well, and Tom’s teasing might have helped, too.

Nevertheless, as he stood in front of a mirror in Barty’s room on a Sunday noon and dressed in everyday, black school-robes, his heart started to clench. Everyone, who wasn’t entirely stupid or blind, could see him having changed. His skin was almost as pale as Sev’s and his eyes grey. Also, his magic was like that of a different person. That, not even a Glamour could hide, he solemnly concluded. He really did have to tell everyone he was undead in some form or another. At least his friends, who’d recognize his magical signature being off. 

He could see Tom supportingly smiling in the mirror, as he rested on the bed and watched him. From there, Riddle called “You do worry too much, love. What are they going to do? If they are worthwhile friends, they will accept you. If not, we’ll search for new ones for you. And… ah, if I dare say so, I had the impression they were pretty fine friends of yours.” Normally, such a statement would have evoked a smile in Harry, but he felt too weak to do so. 

“I hope you’re right… It’s just er- They had to accept so much stuff already, maybe this is one step too far for them?” They had mostly been supportive and understanding throughout his life, there had only been small fights between them. 

“They accepted you turning dark, being the Master of Death, marrying  _ me _ , killing the Headmaster and being attacked by you, love. You being undead will hardly shock them, I’m afraid. I honestly couldn’t think of something, which would. Don’t worry,” Tom remained positive and Harry had to finally laugh at his adorableness, as he counted the examples with his fingers, holding up his hand in the end. 

Perhaps, he was right. But still, defeated, the Master of Death let his shoulders slump over; he had lost his whole confidence regardless of everything. Shaking his head, Riddle climbed out of Barty’s bed and stepped behind him, briefly hugging his waist. “I see; I’m no good at comforting you, am I?” He observed, but Harry declined. So his husband grunted and started to correct his red and gold tie for him, so it would be neat. Next came his hair, which had his apprentice smiling dumbly. Harry was kissed for that, before his lover let him go again and stepped away to sit on the bed. Somehow, this had become Tom’s home, Harry thought. 

“If I don’t come back, assume the worst,” the Death Eater joked, before wishing him goodbye and making his way to a courtyard, where he and his friends often hang out. He had no choice, but to do this. The walk was short and he was lucky enough to not run into any older students; the younger ones were too scared to speak to him, anyway. Rounding another corner, he reached the sunlit yard, everything green now, in summer. He hated, how much time he had lost to Death’s schemes.

Nonetheless, he entered the grassy area and was promptly confronted by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who were all sitting in the shadow of a tree. Their books laid strewn about, so they were presumably doing assignments. Despite his silent steps, they saw him coming and excitedly jumped to their feet. Hermione was first to rush toward him, hugging him and squeezing the last bit of air out of him, that he had left. 

“Harry! Oh, Merlin! Where were you? You were gone for two months-” she had a slightly accusing tone in her voice, as she squeezed him.

As she let go, Ron immediately embraced him, too, which had Harry grin. Ginny only nodded at him politely. “Yeah, mate, where were you? Professor Crouch only said you were on a mission; ‘Mione thinks that’s bullshit, though,” Ronald patted his back before letting go. 

As they slowly walked back to the shadowy area, Harry began to lied “I er… really was on a mission. Some Death Eaters were killed and master had me help out with the investigation. Things went kind of wrong and I  _ might _ have died.” He neutrally regarded them, as their faces went through multiple, horrified expressions at once. To appease them, he added “I usually would have been back far earlier, but things went wrong. Death had some kind of issue with reviving me and now I’m undead.” He did not know, how he should tell them all of this a bit more tactfully. 

Eyeing him in fright, Ron whimpered “You’re a vampire?” He suddenly seemed very conscious of his neck, touching it protectively. 

But the Necromancer luckily was able to shake his head “No, not really. I don’t need blood, food or anything else to live. I’m running entirely on magic as an Inferius would. It’s no big deal, really. I’m not in pain and - as of yet - everything seems to work out fine.” Well, he hated being undead, but that was a completely different, personal issue. Objectively, there were no disadvantages. 

After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Hermione asked “And… that’s just it? You were gone, died, and are now undead. And you don’t care?” She noticed the situation being a bit fishy, of course. 

So he shrugged, although he was uncomfortable to be questioned like this, “I mean- of course, I don’t like this. I’d rather be human! But it’s not like I can do anything against it. I’m angrier about being gone for so long.” Really, his biggest worries had been his friends and family reacting negatively.  

Ginny squinted her eyes at him, more curious than anything else. “And your husband is fine with that?” Was she hoping to get a chance now? Yes, she was. So much for not having a crush on the Dark Lord anymore. Harry felt somewhat murderous upon seeing this - Tom was his. 

His dislike for her must have been evident, as he hissed “Of course, he is. He is  _ my _ husband, after all. He is always going to love me, no matter what.” 

Taken aback by his unfriendly tone, she frowned and scoffed “I was only wondering about it, Harry.” 

Snarling lowly, he snapped at her “I can read your mind, Ginny.” Ron visibly cringed at that, fairly able to guess, what his sister had been thinking. Hermione shook her head in annoyance. Harry felt contented about them being on his side. Regardless of this, the Death Eater aggressively warned “I told you before, but I’ll do it again: He is not and will never be interested. He is mine. Keep on with this and you’ll pay; don’t test my patience. I thought we were over this.” Merlin, he did not know, how he deserved this. And where all this anger and jealousy came from, was a mystery, too.

Apparently, they were indeed not over this. She pursed her lips, huffing “Well, at least I would be faithful-” 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ ,” the Gryffindor became flustered, the grass below him growing icy. This was not ideal, he knew. But how couldn’t he become angry, when someone tried to fight him for his soul? Ginny seemed to finally realize the danger, she was in, when he suddenly and intuitively had his wand in his hand. “You have no fucking clue about any of this! If I decide to fuck anyone outside my marriage, that’s none of your bloody business. Don’t forget your place, Ginny- You’re not my ally and even if you were, I could still do with you, whatever I want. I won’t be disrespected by an insignificant mortal, who nobody would look twice at if it weren’t for her stupid hair-color!” Well, maybe he was overreacting a bit, but he simply could not calm himself down. This rage seemed all-encompassing and he was frightened to lose his lovers to someone like her. She’d not care for them in the right way!

“You just admitted to it!” Ginny apparently thought, she had unveiled a big secret of his. 

He was so very tempted to just curse her, but he remembered her being Ron’s sister. Sarcastically, he snarled “Oh, no! How could I? Ginny, who bloody doesn’t know I’m fucking Crouch? Huh? I don’t think anyone here is retarded enough to not know. Well- I’m kind of surprised, you found out, though.” Glaring at her, she opened and closed her mouth several times, before standing up and stomping with her foot like a little child. 

“This is- I hate you!” She did not know, what to say, so she insulted him and stormed off. 

‘ _ Love, while I do find this comical, I do not appreciate you flaunting your relationship with Barty like this…’ _ Within his mind, his master warned him a bit too late. ‘ _ Also, this is a bit unusual for yourself… You’re usually not this aggressive-’ _

_ ‘I know! I just- I can’t stand someone trying to claim you, okay? I’m sorry, master, but I can’t allow her to do this,’ _ the Necromancer justified his behavior and a feeling of puzzlement hit him, his mate not commenting further for now. That might have been for his best, too.

“Mate, uh… Are you  _ okay _ ?” Ronald slowly questioned, afraid to be shouted at, too. Even he found his attitude to be weird, not all that interested in his sister's well-being, at least. The Master of Death felt appeased by his loyalty.

Grunting, Harry claimed, though “Yes, Ron. I’m perfectly fine; I just don’t appreciate people nosing around in my marriage and trying to steal my man!” He became loud again, frustrated with himself, too. They were lucky, not many people were around. The ground below them felt cold, but due to the warm, summer air, it wasn’t all that noticeable. “I can’t bloody believe she still has a crush on him! How dense can one woman be-” 

Hermione stopped his tirade right there, trying to calm him down by placing a hand on the upper side of his left arm. She had seen Barty doing it more than once, apparently, thinking this would calm him down. It did, somewhat. “Harry, it’s okay. She’s simply confused and crushes don’t last. I agree she is going too far, but you are, as well. Insulting her was uncalled for.” Pouting, he looked at the green, lush grass, which had once resembled his eye color. He knew that, too. He grunted in acknowledgment, while she stroked over the upper side of his arm firmly. “Although… what was that about Professor Crouch just then…?” Ron seemed rather interested in that little fact, also. 

Harry blushed and bit his lower lip for a moment, before being forced to admit “I guessed it was obvious, with all the rumors and stuff… Barty and I, we do have a sort of er… romantic relationship.” 

“Mate, you said you were faithful,” his straight friend suspiciously regarded him again, suddenly not so sure anymore, if this would change anything between them. “I mean, him being there at Yule was kind of dubious, but still.”

“Well… I am faithful since master allows it,” Harry plainly told him, hoping that would be enough. But his hopes had been too childish, he knew. 

Hermione seemed disappointed in him “Harry, he is your teacher and far older than you. Are you certain he isn’t taking advantage of you?” He firmly nodded his head. “Still. Harry, it’s obvious his mental state is a bit…” she struggled for words, as his look grew aggravated, “...impaired. That is to be expected after spending some time in Azkaban, of course. But I don’t think this is very safe for you-”

“Hermione, it’s not like I’m a damsel in distress or something. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself-” 

“-Considering you haven’t actually managed to defeat him even once, I doubt that, sorry,” the witch pointed out, holding his failure against him. “Harry, we just don’t want you to get hurt-”   
“-I won’t. Barty isn’t dangerous to me. Also, this has been going on since Yule and I’m fine. And even if not, master would be sure to stop him.” Why did everyone think he was being abused? To him, Barty was perfectly safe to be with. Yes, he had a few issues, but he was very mindful of them. 

His two friends seemed fairly skeptical.

“How did you even manage to make your husband agree to this,” Hermione questioned. Even she knew this was unusual for the other male, even though she barely knew him. 

Put off guard, he became tight-lipped “Lots of persuasions, essentially. ‘Mione, I can’t tell you a lot about it. It’s very personal- If it only concerned me, I would, but this also concerns my master. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more right now.” He hated having to do this. Hermione and Ron were his best friends, but he had to keep a lot of secrets from them. It seemed unfair, somehow. With every month, they seemed to distance themselves from each other more, and he could not do anything about it. Because of his secretiveness, the conversation soon died down and an awkward silence stretched between them. At least he got the chance to calm down, he guessed. The apprentice hated to be the party-pooper. But, nowadays, he and his friends seemed to live in entirely different worlds. He doubted they’d ever join him; would this be permanent? It wasn’t that he did not want to spend time with them or that he did not like them. He just did not know,  _ how _ to spend time with them. 

Swallowing in concern, Harry timidly asked “Are you angry?” He did not know, why he suddenly felt so insecure about his relationships. 

His questions seemed to confuse the couple, as well, since Hermione stocked in her answer “I- no, we aren’t. We’re just worried for you, that’s all.” She motherly smiled at him, squeezing his arm again, before letting go. Ron simply nodded along to his girlfriend’s words. On second thought, his muggle-born friend proposed “Maybe you should spend some time away from them again. Just so we can see you being alright? How about coming to the Burrow or HQ over the summer vacation?” 

Perplexed, Harry stared at her. He tried to read her intentions, tried to find something dark in there, but there was only genuine concern for his well-being. The Death Eater had to chuckle in amusement “I don’t need to escape my mates, ‘Mione; I do love them. Also, master and I were going to stay at the Crouch Manor. I think Barty would be pretty depressed if I didn’t come. He’s been talking about it for ages. I can visit you for a few days, of course. But I am probably going to be quite busy.” 

Ron raised an eyebrow, thinking he was lying “Busy? On vacation?”

“Well, I’m still my husband’s apprentice, am I not? He will want to have us practice again,” he shrugged. Harry wasn’t planning to be stuck in apprenticeship for all eternity. And Tom had been right - he did need to practice his control magic- and emotion-wise. Otherwise, he’d not be able to put his magical potency to good use. He might become dangerous, even. 

The intelligent one, in turn, pointed out “Hm… How about  _ we _ visit  _ you _ for a change? That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” 

“-And you’d be able to check for my well-being?” The dark mage wriggled his eyebrows, seeing her hidden agenda. He couldn’t say, he was offended by it. At least this meant she cared for him deeply, even if her worries weren’t justified. The Gryffindor contemplated “I guess that would be pretty neat. I only have to make master agree… Barty is going to, anyway.” Excitement swelled in his undead heart. He had  _ never _ had friends visiting him. “Oh! You could visit on my birthday…” He had never had a birthday party at his place, either. And Barty’s home was as close as it got to his place. He could hardly kill everyone and take them to Purgatory, could he? 

“Mate, then we’d have to invite Sirius and everyone else, too. Would be kind of unfair if only us two came,” Weasley considered his idea, improving it, too. 

“I’m sure master won’t mind!”

* * *

 

And, truly, Tom did not order him to cancel the invitation, despite his pained look. Harry chuckled “You know, you almost look like another Horcrux was destroyed just then.” 

“I might do it myself if they’re too annoying,” Riddle rolled his eyes, before taking in the scenery of the entrance hall of Crouch Manor. It was light, the floors made out of white marble, while the tapestry had some blue, flowery patterns on them. While the ceiling was higher than in - to Harry - normal homes, it wasn’t too fancy. One could clearly see, how the Crouches were purebloods and therefore wealthy enough, but one also perceived them to pale in comparison to the Malfoys. The Manor itself was located far away from any Muggle villages, in the middle of nowhere. 

Somehow, the summer vacation had come sooner than expected. Harry had been pretty busy with learning for his finals - at least in the more theory-based subject. And before he knew it, school had been over.

Barty, who was standing beside them, also eyed his home as if he had never been there before. Of course, Winky had done all the cleaning up and prepping, before they came, not him. So, maybe, he had not been in his own house for quite some time. Nevertheless, the Professor also pointed out “My Lord, they’re not that horrible. Well, if we ignore Black, that is…” Shaking off his mild stupor, Barty turned toward them and smiled, “Anyway, we still have some days left before they come. And maybe I should show you around the house! Wouldn’t want you to get lost-” 

“I doubt I am going to, Barty,” their shared leader snorted a bit meanly but softly added “But do show us, yes.” Harry loved his husband a little more each day, somehow. He knew it wasn’t easy for him to be nice at all times, so this meant a lot. Tom shot him a slight glare, still not appreciating his actions being scanned for a deeper meaning. 

Barty started to show them his whole house, basically. The theme of white and blue seemed to continue through all of it. The Manor wasn’t too pompous, even though the rooms were quite grand. But at least there weren’t multiple living rooms or kitchens like in Malfoy Manor. While they walked through the living room, Harry chirped “I like your home.” He honestly did. If he ever intended to buy himself a house, it would be similar to this. Well, maybe a bit more rustic and less… girly.

“Thanks, sunshine… Mother renovated it at some point, so that’s why. She was really handy with stuff like this…” Barty’s voice dropped audibly, deeply attached to his mom. They proceeded to walk through some hallway and upstairs, where the bedrooms were. Multiple paintings hang on the walls, but all of them had been covered with a shabby-looking cloth, which ruined the entire aesthetic of the room. When Harry tugged on one of them in wonder, his boyfriend warningly disapproved “Don’t. If they see me, they’ll start screaming at me. And I really don’t need my grandparents telling me I’m a disgrace again.” So the Master of Death let go of the fabric as if burned. He wondered, why Barty and his family had so many issues with each other. He’d have to ask him later. Barty showed them the bathrooms, plus his room and the guest rooms. “Well… If you are ever fed up with me, you can crash there or something,” he shrugged. His own room was fairly simple and did not reflect his personality at all. Indeed, it was indistinguishable from the guest rooms. There only was a large bed, some shelves, a dresser, and a couch in there. “Hm… that’s pretty much it, I guess.”

But Harry and Tom had to frown for the same reasons. The younger sibling questioned, “What’s with that room over there?” There still was a door, they had not entered.

“U-Uh…” Barty’s tongue flicked out, before he could stop it. “That’s my parents’ bedroom, and… I really don’t want to go in there. And you shouldn’t, either.” Trying to shift their attention away from this, he walked past them and back downstairs hurriedly, quite awkward, too. 

Of course, they followed their host, while Harry questioned “And… when your dad took you from Azkaban, did you really live in your room all the time?” Because, if he did, why was it so dull? There was nothing personal to it, nothing to distract oneself with. Barty couldn't have been imprisoned there for years without turning nuts. 

Barty turned around to face him, a slightly wild look in his eyes. Maybe, he should not have asked that question. Tom emitted an aura of worry, assessing the situation with equal tension. But Barty did nothing drastic, he solely took on an even darker tone “At first- then only, when I mucked up and tried to fight the curse too strongly. I usually roamed the whole house. Except, when I completely broke the curse a few times. Then I’d go to the cellar. My father was loving like that.” Casting his eye toward a door in the entrance hall, he ordered “Don’t go in the cellar, either.” 

Despite being annoyed to be ordered by his own servant, the Dark Lord didn’t comment on his behavior for now. Somehow, a wave of sadness crashed into Harry’s mind through their link. Without having to be questioned by his apprentice, Riddle unveiled ‘ _ It’s simply a pity to see him like this if you knew him before. Love… do yourself a favor and don’t press into his soft spots. You don’t want to push him into one of his phases.’ _

While Barty suggested them to go eat something, Harry thought ‘ _ Phases?’ _

‘ _ You know he isn’t sound of mind. Do you remember, how he behaved before Christmas? If you press the issue further, he will be like that again. Worse, presumably. You don’t want to have him in a depressed, alcoholic state. Because, if he is, that’s only a small jump to make until he becomes aggressive, too.’  _ His husband solemnly explained, while trying to cover up their conversation as well as possible. His younger mate had known about those tendencies, of course. But he had thought those had been one-time issues, not designated states for his boyfriend to be in occasionally. ‘ _ Don’t forget, who he is and what he went through. Your friends are right to worry, love. I’m not questioning his deep love for you, don’t worry. But he can very much behave like Bella on a bad day; she loves Rabastan, as well, but she almost killed him once or twice, regardless of that.’ _

Bartemius was already eyeing them in suspicion, as he called Winky to prepare lunch. Harry did not like talking behind his back, either. But if he could not outright ask his lover, there was no other way. 

‘ _ And Barty is rather jumpy now, anyway. Torturing for me doesn’t exactly help with his issues, even if he thinks it’s a fun activity. His inhibition to hurt someone is fairly low right now. But we should stop now, he knows we are talking,’ _ Tom stopped their conversation, which had his apprentice almost sigh in frustration. Despite all this time spent with them, there was still so much to unveil. He felt like he did not know them, yet. He, on the other side, laid bare before them like a book in the public library. They were books of the forbidden section, dangerous to interact with. 

Murmuring in hurt, Barty growled “I don’t even want to know, what you’re always chatting about… But! This is  _ my _ home, so you better stop with that. Guests ought to be nice to the host.” 

Blushing, Harry stared at a totally interesting cupboard in the kitchen. 

Tom rescued him, however, sardonically drawling “It’s the other way around, usually. The Malfoys are always so very happy to have me at their Manor.” Pouting fakely, he sighed “Sometimes I have the impression, you don’t love your Lord enough.” 

“I do love you, though. In all the important ways…” Barty shot him a glare, not letting himself be manipulated this time. That effectively shut Tom up, who inaudibly hissed to himself. “And I am a pretty good host. After all, I even let you take your snakes with you.” it was true; Nagini and Snow were probably roaming about the main level. The latter was far too big now to be carried by her owner, sadly. “And allowed Harry to invite his friends.  _ And _ I don’t kill you, although you’re all half-bloods. I think I’m pretty accepting, right there.” The student suddenly felt, as if Barty were the Dark Lord. He had never used their blood-status against them before. “Now be nice and behave,” he huffed, as Winky returned with food. Even his husband seemed slightly perplexed by his words, not opposing him, again. Harry found this to be a weird pattern.

After having lunch in relative silence, Tom declared he wanted to go read for a bit and withdrew to some other room, abandoning the two others. The action hardly surprised his bond-mate, who knew the other had a fairly low tolerance for being social. He quickly became exhausted, if he was around people, and needed to recharge. 

But, as he sat alone with Barty, he was filled with slight apprehension. Tom’s words had frightened him the tiniest bit - his friends had said the same, but he had not taken them seriously. And - because he was simply that lucky - his boyfriend noticed his fear. 

Defeated, the other concluded “He’s been telling you stuff about me again, hasn’t he? You should know by now he doesn’t have a clue, who I am.” While Harry did agree this had happened before and his master had been wrong, he did not have the same impression now. 

“Barty…” He started to say, but did not know, how to go on. What should he tell him? That Harry was scared the other would snap eventually and hurt them?

Staring into his grey eyes, his brother went on, sounding quite spiteful “I told you: If you want to know something, ask  _ me _ , not him. He’s not exactly objective. I mean, after what we did to each other, I’m not surprised he’s not able to keep his own opinion out of this. Harry, I’m not a hostile, drunken savage, just as much as he isn’t an emotionless zombie.” A bit less angry, Barty proposed “Brother, just ask me. You’re fine asking him about all sorts of stuff, so why not me? I think I know myself and my life a bit better than him.”

Suddenly feeling shy, the undead one looked at his hands on the table, while Barty sat exactly across from him, quite intimedating. “W-Why… why don’t the portraits like you?” He finally managed to question, still feeling slightly unsafe. At the back of his mind, he saw Tom watching him, not reading at all. 

With a grunt, the other reluctantly answered “They hate me for many reasons, sunshine. First of all, the Crouches were always light wizards. I’m the first to break tradition. And… we are fairly traditional. So, being together with a male wizard is a no-go. Then you’re also a half-blood, we’re not married, and you’re basically a dark creature. To top it off, you can’t become pregnant. Which means… the Crouch line is going to go extinct.” Chuckling with a slightly self-hating glint in his eyes, he pointed out “We three are going to kill three lines at once, just because we swing the wrong way and our parents did not think to produce more heirs. This is exactly the opposite, of what Tom wanted and of what we fought for in the wars. And best thing is: It’s all my fault.” 

“What? No, it’s not!” Harry did not understand his reasoning behind that, even though he could see it clear as day. 

“It is. Sunshine, I’m no idiot. I could have stopped so much of this in so many ways. Hadn’t I made the Longbottoms go insane, well, maybe we’d have found little Neville. The prophecy never said you would have to be the child; had Tom gone after him, he would have been made his equal. He would be the Horcrux. Neville would have died; he isn’t as strong as you. But I also could have done so much better, before you joined. I should have captured you at the Quidditch Championship. Or I could have kissed you first…” 

No, Harry agreed with all of these points. “Barty, it was my destiny to become this. And the Potter and Gaunt lines were dead when our parents decided to not marry a pureblood. Since when do you even care about the 28? Do you really want the lines to go on? At this point, it’s pure incest.” 

“The old families can’t be in power, if there are no old families, sunshine. I don’t care for you being a half-blood. But you could have had children and you could have continued the Potter line in some way. This happened before - ‘ _ breeding’ _ out the impurity isn’t too hard,” the pureblood regarded him, unconvinced.

“Barty, if I look at most of the heirs, I’m glad they might not reproduce. Do you want to have a child raised by Rabastan and Bella? At least our kind of crazy won’t be given on to the next generation,” the Master of Death chuckled morbidly. 

“I’m a teacher, Harry. It definitely will be transported to the younger generations,” his lover chuckled, too, which lifted his spirits. 

Shrugging, he reminded “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’d rather end my line than being married to some girl, who I don’t love.” He did not want an arranged marriage, he wanted to be happy. And he wanted his mates to be happy, too. But… was that possible with him around? He tried to push the fear back down.

“You should tell that to my relatives…” Crouch Jr pressed his lips together, before slowly requesting “Anything else, you want to ask? Because I’d rather have you talking to me than Tom.” 

Feeling evil and wanting to get away from the topic of Barty’s relatives, he asked “If Tom and I were in danger, who would you save?” Tom had told him he would choose him over Barty, which had kind of stunned him. 

Weirded out, Barty nervously laughed “What kind of question is that?” 

“An important one,” Harry neutrally said. If his two lovers decided to only save his life, that would be bad. After all, they should all look out for each other, if this was supposed to work. 

“Uh… Depends, I guess. I mean, you can’t really die, but you’re all sorts of vulnerable. So I’d probably save you first…” 

“And, what if I could permanently die?” Harry wanted to get to the bottom of this. 

Uncomfortable, Crouch answered “W-Well… I’d protect you. Because if you die, our Lord goes mad, too…” 

“What if Tom decided to kill me for some reason or another?” Harry meant no harm with his questions, they simply fascinated him. 

“U-Uh…” He saw his lover did not want to say something wrong and make him angry. “I’d… stop him? I mean, he’d be clearly out of his mind-”

Nodding in contemplation, Harry went on “If there was no other way, would you kill him?”

“I don’t like these questions,” Barty huffed, crossing his arms like a 3-year-old. “I… maybe I would. But only, because I’d fall out of love and loyalty with him the second he hurts you. What would  _ you _ do, though? Would you rather kill me or your husband?” 

Harry should not have started with this, should he? He quickly clouded his mind, so Tom would not see. Reluctantly, he told him the truth ”I er… would probably kill you, because I know death isn’t something bad. The afterlife is quite nice.” 

“And why not Tom?” Barty seemed offended, even, and he saw his disappointment, as he leaned away from Harry.

Harry apparated toward him silently, startling him for a second, before placing a kiss against his cheek. “Because Tom has no one, but me and you. There’d be no one waiting for him there. You at least have your mother, maybe a few friends,” he made up a half-truth for him. But the full truth wanted to get out, too. “If I told you a secret, could you keep it from him?” He knew Barty was fairly good at Occlumency. 

“Well, if he wasn’t actively looking for it, sure…” Barty frowned at him, but accepted his cold body, as it climbed into his lap. 

Decided, Harry gloomily said “There is more to it. I-I… Tom won’t be able to enter the afterlife. At all.” The other’s eyes went wide and he wanted to ask, why, but the Master of Death already replied “Because he tore his soul apart, he is doomed to stay in Limbo forever.” 

“A-And Limbo is what-” 

“Nothingness, basically. It has no end or beginning, no time, no matter. It’s just a place, where I - er, Death resides for the most part and souls stay at for certain reasons and set times before they go to the afterlife. It can be manipulated, like the Room of Requirement, more or less. But it’s not real… And Tom- H-He wouldn’t be one, there. His seven parts would be strewn about, barely conscious…” Harry tried to force away tears, which threatened to roll down his cheeks. He didn’t want his soul to suffer like this. ‘ _ You know it is his own fault,’ _ a cruel vice reminded him, but he did not listen. 

Shocked, Barty gripped his shoulders “Did you tell him-”

“How could I?” He questioned the other. “I can’t tell him; he’s scared of dying as is.” 

His sibling swallowed “W-What if I stayed in this Limbo, too… Then he wouldn't be alone.” 

“Barty… Limbo isn’t a place for normal souls to stay at. You’d suffer and Tom might not even realize you are there in his state of being. I… have seen parts of him, there. It’s horrible. The only way to save him is to make him live forever. So, please, save him and not me. He might not be able to die with his Horcruxes, but he can become insane. And he would rather die than being nuts.”

As he had once, his brother proposed “Aren’t you all-powerful? Why don’t you just put the pieces together again…” 

“They are frozen in time, Barty. If I put them all together, that would make him go crazy, too. He’d have seven personalities at once,” he breathed in Barty’s scent to comfort himself, hugging closer. 

“Hmpf…” The Hufflepuff scratched at his hair, trying to come up with something. “You know… something doesn’t fit, though.”

“Huh?” Perhaps he had forgotten to explain something?

Confused, Crouch pointed out “You said you reattached his Horcrux to your body, explaining, why our Lord wasn’t in pain, yes?” Harry nodded to affirm his statement. “But… that kinda poses two problems. One: The first time you died, I and Tom immediately felt it. But we only share a platonic bond, which links magic. If you died, shouldn’t I have felt something? And Tom should have been a Squib, right?” That, indeed, was weird. While Harry searched his mind for answers, Barty went on “And, two: You said you reattached the Horcrux to your body. So, theoretically speaking… shouldn’t you be able to reattach the other Horcruxes to new items, as well? Make them alive again? And if you can do that, what could stop you from bringing them to the Afterlife? Aren’t you the boss around there? Seems kind of fishy…” 

Barty was right, none of this made any sense. “I-I… I don’t know. But I should, shouldn’t I?”He was Death, so why didn’t he know? Upon closer inspection, he saw “Although… I don’t have my magic anymore and I am still bonded to you two. I suppose the bonds were reattached to Death’s magic… But he told me, bonds couldn’t span across different dimensions. So, if I am in Purgatory, you should still be thinking I’m dead. But you didn’t…” None of this made any sort of sense. This was wrong, simply put. ‘ _ You just forgot something. It will probably make sense in the future.’ _

Again, his favorite sibling repeated “I told you this sounded fishy right away. Something isn’t right. For you being Death, you still seem incredibly human to me. And all this soul-stuff makes no sense, either. Why is merging your soul with Death’s okay, but putting together Tom’s pieces is not? There are no rules or anything, but there should be.” Fingers tapped against Harry’s side in thought, as Barty searched his eyes for answers. “We should tell master…”

Swallowing, the Master of Death chocked out “But then he’ll know we just kept things from him!” 

“You two keep stuff from me all the time, too. He’ll get over it,” Barty declared and picked up his mate, as he stood up. He set him down again, before taking his hand and dragging him after him toward the backyard “And there I thought we’d be having a vacation…” Before Harry knew it, he stood on lush, green grass and the sun shone on his cold skin. Cocking his head, Tom looked at them, as he sat in the sun with a book in his head. “We have an issue,” Barty called, which seemed to barely surprise the handsome man. 

“Don’t we always,” the Slytherin seemed unaffected, as he bookmarked the page he was on and put it on the grass beside him. “Do I even want to know, why I was suddenly shut out, Harry?” He instead directed at his primary mate and right hand, who was struggling to keep up with Barty’s pace. 

They soon all sat in the grass in a triangle shape, while Barty explained all the inconsistencies to him again - albeit leaving out Tom’s doom, which Harry was grateful for. “See? None of that makes sense. Even if we assume Death to be above the laws of magic, it makes no sense. If he was omnipotent, Harry could do far more than this. If he isn’t… well… I don’t know! This is just wrong!” 

Put off, Riddle seemed flustered, as he looked between Barty and Harry. “And? What do you expect  _ me _ to do about it? I’m a master of dark magic, not of transdimensional laws!” He seemed equally as helpless as them, with the added stress of wanting to seem competent and in control. 

Meekly, Harry voiced “...maybe I just need more time and then I’ll know more-”

But Crouch disagreed “Sunshine, at this point I honestly question if you even merged with Death.” 

After a long moment of silence, where only a few birds chirped on, Tom agreed “Yes… it seems illogical. But… Why would Death lie about it? And if he did, what can we do about it? So let’s not rule out him being Death, yet. Still… I don’t even know, where we could start to solve this. There is hardly research on the afterlife and souls; only tales.”

“I have an idea…” the older servant suddenly whispered, holding up a finger, as if scared to forget the idea. “The Ministry, my Lord. They  _ do _ research abstract concepts; my father talked about it occasionally. Like… love and death. Hm… remember the Ministry-raid? We were in this weird chamber with that portal. I think my father called that the  _ Death Chamber _ once or twice; said the people working there were nutjobs and a waste of money. But if the Ministry has a Death Chamber, they should have research, right? At this point, anything would help…”

Harry remembered the portal, it had spoken to him. He uttered “It would be worth checking out for sure. But… we can’t send Yaxley or someone. Nobody should know about this. Especially not, when we might have a mole, anyway.” For the first time in quite a while, the Death Eaters were not his allies, but potential enemies. 

Tom nodded “You’re right. We have to do it on our own. But without Yaxley, getting into the Ministry might be a bit difficult right now. We’re only semi-public with our control over the Ministry, after all… We can’t just waltz into there.” At least he had two conspirators, the former Savior realized.

Barty madly grinned at his master, almost squealing in joy “Oh! Don’t tell me, we’re going on a secret op- Just like old times-” 

“Sometimes I ask myself, whether I caused permanent brain damage in you,” Riddle cruelly teased him, despite his joy. “But… I’d suppose one could call this a secret op, yes.” When asked, when they would start, he rolled his eyes “I do have to actually plan this a bit, don’t I? So not now. I have to know, which employee is where at what time, what they are responsible for… And all, without raising suspicion in Yaxley. This might take a while; at least a few weeks. So much for some time off…” 

“I’m sorry, master,” Harry apologetically regarded his mate, not having wanted this. He wished he could do this himself, but he wasn’t as experienced in tactics as Tom was. 

“It’s fine… Let’s just hope I can sufficiently rest at night, or this might end badly…” Riddle drawled, again tired of his nightmares. But, luckily, Harry had thought of asking Hermione about it. She had promised to research it some. Of course, he had not said for who it was.

Barty, still far too excited about the whole ordeal, flirted “Hm… I know a few ways to repay and make you relax…” He tried to place his hand on the older man’s thigh but was rejected with a slap to his hand.

“Sleeping with you will indeed produce the completely opposite effect. You should know that by now,” Tom growled at him to stop, basically. 

“Didn’t say I would be the one to do it,” Barty knowingly glanced at Harry, who blushed, when Tom disturbedly regarded him, also. 

“No, not in a million years, Barty,” Riddle disagreed, understanding the plan fairly well. “If you’re that desperate, buy yourself a hooker and give her Polyjuice. I’ll gladly surrender some hair for your cause.”

Laughing, he was ignored “We’ll see about that. And… A hooker won’t do; I want more than your body, after all.” 

In Parsel, Tom snapped at Harry “ **_What did he offer you to make you agree to this?_ ** ”

Innocence in person, Harry bashfully mumbled “ **_Master, nothing! I’d never let myself be bought like that… This is for your own good._ ** ” He felt disappointed at how lowly his husband thought of him.

“ **_I somehow doubt that. I don’t see me profiting much, here._ ** ”

Ending their little exchange, Barty smirked at the oldest one “Resistance is futile, Tom. It’s sunshine’s birthday, soon! Don’t we all have to make sacrifices in life… and you do want to make him happy, don’t you?” This was extortion in it’s purest form, Harry concluded. Of course, if Tom was completely against this, they’d not go through with the plan. But he really did think this might help in the end.

“If this is to be my forced present to my husband, I’d like to see yours-” 

“Nah, your presents are better than mine, anyway. Why break the tradition?” Bartemius regarded him with a shit-eating grin, for once having the upper hand in their conversation. 

Huffing, Tom pointed out to his Death Eater “This is more a gift to you than him, though!”

“Sharing is caring, and Harry is super caring. So, of course, he shares his gift with me.”

While the Master of Death was glad to hear that his actions were acknowledged, Riddle was not. “You’re going to regret this, Bartemius.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your comments and kudos! They mean a lot. Hm... I'd say, there will be three more chapters or so. 
> 
> But, don't worry, I will write another HP fanfic soon enough. I somehow REALLY want to write something with vampires or veelas. I'm not sure though, about which M/M ship it will be. If you have suggestions, feel free to comment. Just beware: I exclusively do M/M, nothing with females or gender swap or whatever kind of stuff. Nothing with time travel AUs, either, or stuff, which only allows for super short stories.


	8. In and Out of Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and his mates have some fun, but the following day quickly ruins the mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First section is shameless smut, others have an actual plot. 
> 
> Sorry, I didn't post this yesterday; I was kind of busy because of Easter and this chapter became slightly longer than intended.

**Chapter 8**

**In and Out of Reality**

* * *

* * *

 

“Love… this is coercion,” Tom whined, as he was trapped in his mate’s secure hold and pressed into his coldness. They were standing in the library a few days later, two days before Harry’s birthday. Tom had been about to search another book to read, standing in front of a bookcase when his husband had suddenly apparated behind him, embracing him from there. Tom seemed far from enthusiastic, tense even. “Don’t you have any pity on me and my feelings?” Riddle tried to wriggle away but stood no chance against the other in this position. 

It was his own fault, Harry thought. He had tried it in other ways: He had been meek and sweet to him, following his every whim. Had pleaded him, had tried to be seductive… None of it had worked on his mate. So, really, this was his last resort. How else was he to help out Barty and know, whether Tom truly loved his husband? Humming into his ear and producing a slight shiver with that, he clarified, “Oh, I do have lots of pity for you. That’s why I am doing this. I want you to feel good.” Teasingly, he rubbed against him from behind to get his intentions across. He needed to have the other or he might spontaneously combust - didn’t his soul trust him? He felt his heart aching. 

His mate swallowed nervously, fingering at the arms holding him “This won’t help me feel nice, this will make me feel stressed out…” The student got the notion the other wanted to flee for some reason.

“You’ve got to be more positive, master,” the apprentice cooed at the other to calm him down. Tom’s heart was beating a bit too fast. “Don’t worry so much, hm… We’ve done this a million times before…” That was a bit exaggerated, perhaps. In reality, they had not done this in quite a while. But, even then, Harry started to nibble at his husband’s ear, eliciting a strangled noise. Willingly, the other pushed back into him for a second. His plan seemed to work out!

“Ah… Love, but not with  _ him _ …”

“He’ll only watch,” the other, dark mage assured him, rubbing circles into his lover’s abdomen to make him feel secure.

His mate did not seem to believe him, trying to struggle away again, albeit none too seriously. If he did, Harry would stop. “I… I don’t want him to touch me.” 

“He won’t, then.” He nuzzled his mate's neck, licking over it, not yet biting. He couldn’t be too fast with his mate, he’d become frightened then. “We’ll only do, what you’re comfortable with.” 

Still not appeased, the other demanded, “And you won’t hurt me, either… ? You might enjoy being in pain, but I don’t.” Tom was clearly alluding to Barty’s style of topping, where Harry ended up with bruises more often than not and had to heal himself.

“I’d never…” Unfittingly, Harry decided to softly bite into the vulnerable neck, Tom trying to keep his noises to a bare minimum. The Master of Death noted the slight apprehension in his mate upon this, but he  _ had _ to mark him. He craved to have the other for himself and - apparently - this was best done by sleeping with him and giving him hickeys. Sucking at the soft throat in front of his face, Harry perceived another living being to be close by. He would have smiled, weren’t he busy right now. While abusing the other’s current position, the Gryffindor lightened his grip on his mate, letting one hand slide downward. Expertly, he began to unbutton the first buttons of his master’s robes. Sometimes, he too wished he wore a few layers less. Ideally, none at all. Certainly, no one in their right mind would be against it.

Slightly jumpy, his husband decided he wanted a faster pace to get it over with and tried to reach for his wand, stepping away from Harry for that cause. But the Death Eater sadly could not allow that, simply pushing his mate forward into the bookcase, effectively squishing him. Offended, the Slytherin wanted to growl at him, but his resistance died down, when his crotch was squeezed none too gently. 

“You know this is not how it works…” He scolded his impatient lover for undermining his authority over him. After all, the younger mage had a sort of bet to win with Barty, and he also did not enjoy having someone this feisty bottom for him.

“I’m going to ah- kill him…” Riddle became flustered upon his actions and thoughts, not yet having given up on his dominance fully. But Harry knew that behavior would still come to an end once the other was in the mood. It simply took a while, but he did not mind at all. Behind them, they heard a certain Hufflepuff chuckling lowly, amusement clear. The Dark Lord wasn’t very frightening like this, was he? More like an enraged puppy.

Continuing to open the buttons, the necromancer licked along his soul’s ear, huskily reminding, “No, you won’t.” Finished with the first layer of clothing, Harry let it vanish into nothingness, immediately going after the next one - a waistcoat. Tom shivered, although there was no way he could blame it on the undead’s cold nature, yet. “Hm… I know you like doing this…” he said while using his second hand to open up the other’s belt, trapping him solely with his weight against the bookcase. He was quite glad it was sturdy like that; how foresightful of Bartemius’ mother.

“N-No…” Tom tried to decline his claims but did not sound very convincing. When Harry pushed his cool hand into his pants, however, gripping him, he whimpered in mild anticipation. The undead human slowly, but firmly jerked him off, keening as his bond-mate pushed back into him invitingly. 

“Mh- What is this, then? Doesn’t look like you don’t enjoy it… you’re pretty hard, too…” He sighed contentedly, confident in his own abilities. The younger one ground into him, already affected by his adorable mate and his sounds, too. His dry humping made the other weakly moan, wanting more to his own distress. “...mh, I bet you were just playing hard to get. Maybe you don’t even deserve me being nice to you like this…” He bit into his neck again, slightly breaking his promise. But this had not really been, what Tom had been referring to anyway. The other fancied being marked and his hair being pulled at, despite everything. Just not anything else.

Defending himself, Riddle complained, “I ah- wasn’t teasing…” In turn, he eagerly pushed into the hand jerking him off, needing more friction and the other to shut up. His Death Eaters smirked.

Harry knew he was full of shit. “You can’t hide from me… I know you liked seeing me beg. Think it’s time for you to repay the favor, hm?” Normally, he would not put this extra stress on his lover, but he had a point to make. He took a step backward, giving his mate some space and withdrawing his hands, too. 

Smug, the undead wizard smiled at his husband as he turned around, looking quite disheveled and stubborn at the same time. He must have seen Barty nearby, since he turned a slightly darker shade of red, hissing “ **_I’m not going to do that…_ ** ”  _ In front of him _ , was, what he left out. Harry begged to differ.

“You are,” he stepped closer and pulled Tom in by his cheek, kissing him quite sloppily for a moment and coaxing him into submission. The other groaned against his mouth powerlessly, still holding on to the faint hope his husband would change his mind, however. To manipulate him a bit, the Master of Death let his magic wrap around the other in hopes of making him feel more secure and, in turn, give in more easily. After a while, he let go of him again and demanded, “Hm… I think you can put your mouth to better uses, too…” Putting a hand on the other’s shoulder and pressing downward, he finally reached his goal of his mate sinking to his feet, despite him glancing at him in something akin to hatred. 

“You’re a sadistic moron...” RIddle grumbled, trying his best not to look past Harry and at Barty, who had lazily sat down on an armchair close to them, but not too close. 

“But you love this idiot…” Harry dorkily grinned at him, stroking through the other’s black hair and making it messy as he opened his own trousers. His leader glared at him, as he freed himself and inched closer. Maybe it wasn’t such a bright idea to have his husband suck him off when he was angry at him. So, while gripping at those locks suddenly and eliciting a choked cry, he ordered, “No teeth, okay?” Cheeky, despite having his hair pulled at, Tom flashed his teeth and hissed threateningly like a real snake, but that act soon stopped, when he was forced to take a cock in his mouth. 

The Master of Death groaned as the hot wetness engulfed him, making it hard not to thrust into it. Sloppily, his lover swallowed around him, sliding his tongue over the underside of his prick slowly, teasing him. Harry still had a hand full of hair, using that to his advantage. Going slow, he minimally met the other’s motions, as he bobbed his head up and down. With a moan, Harry teased “Mh… It’s so nice when you’re not able to talk back…” Red eyes squinted at him and teeth dangerously grazed along his most sensitive area. “Oh… I don’t think biting me is very tasty, master... “ At least Barty had slight troubles to not pull a face if he accidentally drew blood. The Necromancer doubted he was delicious. Regardless, Riddle did it again at which Harry thrust into him a bit too hard on  _ accident _ , making him gag. “Ngh- Come on… You’re making me look bad!” He indeed was and Harry was sure, this was the other’s goal. Wickedly, he purred “Hm… if keep on doing that, mh- we’ll have to show Barty another time, again. So long ‘til you behave like you usually do…” Normally, his Lord was far more docile when they were doing it this way.

‘ _ You’re awful…’ _ was thrown at him as red eyes teared up because he had made him gag a bit too strongly.

“This could be so mh- much nicer, would you only give in…” The apprentice tried to convince him, as he let go of his mate’s hair, so he could wipe away the few tears, there were. Tom used that chance to retreat and catch his breath, messily licking and kissing along his shaft, making Harry eagerly rub against his lips and sullying them further. For someone with such a neat husband, the former Savior enjoyed creating a mess out of him far too much. 

Trying to bargain with him, Tom toyed with the head of his dick, purring “What do I get if I mh- comply?” He licked away some of the precum, almost making his mate give in. 

But this wasn’t how this was supposed to go, though, so he ignored the other kissing his head and swirling his tongue around it. “You’ll not be punished, that’ll be your reward,” the dark wizard patted the other’s head lovingly for a moment before gripping at it again. Despite himself, Tom moaned at his head being pulled at, eyes slightly glassy. “Now obey… Otherwise, I might have to transport all your robes and wand to Purgatory… Kind of inconvenient, considering our guests will arrive tomorrow…” His master seemed flustered at the prospect of that, even though he was already guided toward a leaking cock again. “Hm… That would be funny, huh? You running around with all those hickeys and in your boxers?” He was engulfed by warmth again, his mate slightly more eager now - for _whatever reason_. Now, he was actually taking all of him, humming around him meekly and with a pleading look in his ruby eyes. “Agh- And I bet mh Remus and Sirius would dig that little ass of yours… _Oh_ and mmh- ‘Mione would find those Muggle clothes of yours totally ngh- interesting…” With every threat of his, Tom seemed to double his efforts, despite Barty chuckling to himself in entertainment. He caressed him for his efforts, preferring his soul being so eager to please him. But he also knew this would not be enough. This wasn’t, what they were here for. Harry and Barty needed more.

So, he removed himself from the sinful mouth after a while and pulled the other up to his feet, crushing their lips together and involuntarily tasting himself. Without further ado, he almost inaudibly promised, “Now hm, call me  _ master _ in front of him and I’ll do something nice for you…”  His leader looked at him in embarrassment, which pleaded to be vanished through consoling words. Nosing at his face as he touched him, Harry cooed “If he makes fun of you for it, I’ll kick his butt...” 

_ “F-Fine _ …” his first mate whispered back, apparently sufficiently convinced by his words. His need for release might have helped, too. The Master of Death’s stamina was rather unnatural in comparison. Harry placed a gentle kiss on his temple, before crowding him into a table, which stood between two bookcases. Confused, Riddle questioned “N-No bed… ah-  _ master _ …?” 

Harry tried to ignore Barty’s baffled look, answering his lover “No, not this time. Table will do…” He hadn’t - if he thought very closely about it - ever slept with Tom outside a bed or a tub before. Somehow, Barty and he were a bit more exhibitionist in that regard, having abused the DADA classroom and storage rooms one too many times for their means. Not, that the younger sibling got a say in it, where they did it. It usually happened when they met on the hallways by accident and Barty saw an opportunity to get some quick release. At first, he had felt a bit weird about it, but he liked that thrill now.

So he turned his bond-mate around, before gently placing a hand on his back and guiding him to bend over the table for him. In this position, they were sideways to where Barty was sitting - Harry did not think Tom would want to outright face him, anyway. ‘ _ This must be the most embarrassing moment of my life… And I attended the Slug Club more than once. I hope you honor my sacrifice…’ _

Giggling, the Master of Death vanished the rest of their clothing one after the other, meanwhile placing kisses along his mate’s spine, traveling up as far as he could. He also took his soul’s round, inviting cheeks in hand, squeezing them, digging his colder fingers into the living flesh of the other. 

“You know… Barty showed me some pretty nice things, hm... “ He saw the man in the corner grinning, slowly stroking himself, as he watched on. Harry hadn’t even noticed him taking out his dick, but he surely did not mind. Using his hand on the other’s bum, he pulled his cheeks apart, which elicited an excited keen in the other. Leaning down, he let his breath ghost over it as he proposed “I could show you… since you were so good-”

But, apparently, his husband did not enjoy the notion of participating in that  _ at all _ . Tensing, the male wordlessly shook his head with quite a bit of vigor and his magical aura recoiled from Harry, trying to get away in fright. 

The young Death Eater understood that signal well, having collected some experience through his time with Tom, and immediately withdrew, apologetically returning to kiss the pretty spine in front of him. “I’m sorry… You’ll get another reward, then… Mh- But first things first…” Showing off his power a bit, he used a charm to slick up his fingers without a wand and slowly pushed one of them into his lover. He felt pity for this broken being, despite his innermost intuition telling him to hate Tom for his acts. But, surely, Harry would be able to help him. 

From Barty, a mixture of confusion and disappointment hit him ‘ _ Why didn’t he eat him out… Bloody tease!’  _ Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to have him watch only. Apparently, Bartemius wasn’t as versed in Tom’s little warning signals, that showcased he was about to panic. He’d simply have to watch a few more times, the Master of Death pragmatically concluded. 

He soon snapped out of his thoughts, when the Dark Lord in front of him outright pleaded “Mh- master, go on…” Perhaps he had been a bit lost in thought - he felt almost sorry for the squirming mage, who pushed back into the one finger sliding in and out of him at an excruciatingly slow pace. 

Rewarding him for using the title again, he made sure to insert the next digit and search for the right spot to massage, so his lover would become putty beneath him. Despite him not finding it immediately, Tom was still blissfully meeting his movements, shivering slightly for multiple reasons. Somehow, he seemingly had forgotten all about Barty sitting in the room and having a fun time. Harry felt proud for that, as he rubbed over the bundle of nerves and the man bucked in vain, trying to pleasure himself. The former took that as a sign to go on, pushing the last finger inside the now slick entrance, while masturbating at the sight. 

As he tortured his lover with a slow pace, he regarded Barty, who licked his lips upon realizing he was being watched. “Enjoying the sight, hm?” He cooed, letting go of himself and kneading the plum butt in his vicinity, making the other jealous. Tom truly was Harry’s, however. He owned him. When he was faced with a charismatic smirk, he added “Told you I was good at it…” If he did not get a reward for this himself, he’d force Barty into celibacy.

Groaning mildly, his fellow Death Eater joked “Almost makes me wanna bottom mh-, too.  _ Almost _ .” 

Tom, unable to not insult his servant, breathlessly mocked him “Ah- Thank  _ god _ you don’t- Such a shitty mh- bottom…” 

“You fucked this shitty bottom for three years or so!” Crouch Jr defended his abilities to be at the receiving end, adding, “I mean- we fucked like bloody rabbits! I spent  _ weeks _ of my life in your bed. Can’t be that bad, then.”

The Legilimense saw his master wanted to egg the other on further, so he had to prevent that. He withdrew his fingers, which prompted the other to lift his head in worry, thinking he had over-done it. To appease him, he caressed his back once, before spreading his cheeks and guiding himself toward the inviting hole. Normally, he’d make Tom beg to be fucked - but he really could not wait anymore. He wanted to fuck something warm and - due to the charm - slick, again.  And he wanted to experience Tom’s trust in him, wanted to feel special because of it. He gripped those squishy, soft hips, as he slid in deeper to be buried in Tom fully. The latter tensed slightly, but had ultimately grown used to this, only a tiny spark of apprehension in his heart. The merged being loved this. 

For better access, the apprentice pulled the other toward him, until he was completely engulfed by his tightness. While giving his Slytherin a breather, the latter whined, as if in a worse kind of pain than was usual. Harry luckily knew this was normal for his mate; he only wanted to be coddled and doted over, for the most part. The Master of Death had made this his sole mission in life, anyway, so he leaned over him more and kissed his shoulder blades again, rubbing his hips soothingly. He loved this soul, which was only his, and wanted to see him content. Everything else would destroy him.

After a brief while, he could hear Barty think ‘ _ Bloody hell... I’d die if I needed to wait so long… Kinda cute, though.’ _ The student shot him a glance, shaking his head the slightest bit ‘ _ Right… you can hear me, oh... It is cute. You should look at yourself- Guess fluffy sex is part of married life?’ _

_ ‘We’re not… fluffy…’ _ Harry could only think of that as he invaded his mind. No, he declined to have such terms attributed to their relationship. Interacting with Tom was like interacting with a Veela. Beautiful and enticing when happy, murderous and a tyrant when angry. No, their relationship was anything but fluffy. It was a double-edged sword, even if he loved this man to pieces. There were peaceful, adorable moments between the two of them, but that surely did not describe their marriage as a whole. In the end, Riddle had committed genocide and still cared very little for most people’s lives. Harry - especially as the supposed death incarnate - wasn’t blind to his atrocious acts. No, he simply decided to pay them no mind. Did that make him evil?

“Master… move,  _ please _ ,” his vulnerable,  _ innocent _ mate wriggled around beneath him, trying to do something with his limited movement. The one on top had been too lost in thought again, but being in reality was truly a task. Having pity on him, he gripped his hips and firmly began pounding into him, guessing his mate was prepared by now. Indeed, he was if his noisy whines and moans were anything to go by. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the library, Harry growing more excited by his husband's pleas and groans, wanting to fill him and his need.

Crouch seemed equally as affected, albeit not as vocal as the two others, only the noise of him jerking himself off being heard. Despite having promised not to hurt his husband, he knew he was gripping on his hips too tightly. Even then, the thought of discoloring them made him twitch in excitement - Barty had ruined him. Since Tom had not complained, yet, he did not deem this too dire, either. Instead, his lover was holding the table’s edge as if afraid to fall down - Harry would never allow that - and his head slightly bent backward, becoming louder with every hit against his special spot. 

“Mh-  _ master _ …” Tom wailed, not entirely selfless, prompting him to increase his efforts and thrust into him harder. Next to them, Crouch made a strangled groan and couldn’t hold back anymore, coming as he jerked himself faster. The other sibling did not blame him, really. Tom’s body and vocalness were hard to resist, he himself felt the need to come build up. 

Leaning back a little for better access, he gripped his husband’s dick and pumped it firmly, making the other arch his back and mewl desperately. Demanding in his tone, Harry called “Will you ngh- be good and come for me?” 

His question was redundant, but Riddle still affirmed “Y-Yes…” At this point, he was barely coherent anymore, needily meeting his pounds.

‘ _ How the mighty have fallen…’ _ a spiteful voice resonated within his head but he  _ couldn’t _ listen, too close. His lover started to clench around him, coming, which had him groan and stutter in his movements, becoming slower as he emptied himself in the other. Tom became lax underneath him, thoroughly exhausted, as he fucked his come into him with a last few, slow strokes. 

Coming down from his high, he soon ceased his movements, albeit staying within his mate for a while longer. He wished he could mark him more thoroughly as his, as he reassuringly stroked over his back. Softly, he inquired about the other’s well-being “Hm… you okay?” He always did since he was afraid to have overstepped some boundaries.

“I’m  _ cold _ …” the other whined and Harry could understand. Even in summer, Tom was always freezing and the table wasn’t exactly warm - neither was Harry. 

Fittingly, the only mortal in the room called him out “That’s what you get for fucking a corpse.” He thought himself funny, his mind still clouded a bit. 

Hurt and insecurity festered in the  _ corpse’s _ heart, but he did not mention it. He doubted Barty had meant it to be hurtful. Still, did his other soul prefer alive men? What if he became superfluous one day and Crouch only slept with the warm, squishy body, which now laid before Harry? Tom, of course, perceived his hurt and wanted to snap at the other, but Harry already cooed “Hm… we should get you warm, then. A shower’s in order, anyway.” Slipping out of him - despite receiving a displeased hiss for that - he helped his mate stand up. “Going to apparate us…” he warned before doing just that. Appearing in one of the bathrooms, he could only hope his other mate to be understanding about being abandoned. Harry did not think Tom was willing to shower with him.

Immediately, he was scolded by the other, who seemed a bit dizzy as he held onto his shoulder, “You should have told him-”

“It doesn’t matter, master. You know he’s sometimes a bit… rough around the edges. He doesn’t do it on purpose,” the Gryffindor shrugged, as he activated the shower with magic and led his disagreeing mate into it. 

Suspicious, his husband grumbled, “You let him get away with too much…” Blissfully, he keened as the hot water hit him and his mate embraced his middle, enjoying the warm water, as well.  _ This _ was fluffy, Harry supposed.

“I’m not exactly the dominant one in our relationship, master. Also, it’s not my job to order him around when we don’t have our masks on,” he clarified, but kept some things to himself, too. It wasn’t like he only did this with Barty. When Tom did something like this, something mildly hurtful, he didn’t ask him to stop, either. He did not deem it worth the trouble. “Anyway… how did you like it?” He quickly shifted the topic elsewhere, despite red eyes linking with his - his husband  _ knew _ . 

Sighing, as Harry gently washed his back, Tom admitted “Better than I anticipated… I did not think he’d actually have the self-control to not come close and do something ah… regretful.” When Harry smiled a bit too happily for his comfort, he quickly stated “That doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with him. I  _ do _ hope you told him this.” The Master of Death saw the slightest hint of panic in his bond-mate, not coping with this idea well.

He shook his head before kissing the abused neck in front of him, “I told him you might be willing once you admit your love to him. Since you didn’t…” 

“W-What?” His Lord seemed flustered as he tensed in his hold. “There is nothing to admit- I don’t love him!” 

Kissing his nose and enraging him more, death incarnate laughed “You do, though. I can see it.” He wasn’t naive and his ability to read Tom like an open book might have helped, too.

“I do not, love. He’s insufferable, rude, disobedient, perverted, and mentally insane! I love  _ you _ \- nobody else,” his master vehemently declined his founds, lying to himself. “He can be your boyfriend or whatever you want him to be, but he’ll never be mine! He’s okay to cuddle with but nothing else.” 

“Hm, whatever you say, master,” Harry adapted the typical, Dumbledore  _ I-Know-More-Than-You _ -glint in his grey eyes, mocking the other. 

Paradoxically, his lover hugged him closer and put his head beneath his, mumbling “I do not.”

“Wanna bet?” His apprentice teased as he slid his hand downward, sliding it over the abused behind of his spouse. 

Snorting, his master declared “I bet 40 000 Galleons I will never tell him that.” 

“Hm… I bet my friends’ lives you will.” 

Sheepishly, his husband smiled at him before he hid again. Those Galleons did not matter - they shared vaults.

* * *

Something was…  _ off. _ Harry couldn’t exactly tell, what was wrong, though. There were so many, little things which he found weird. The voice within his mind did not help, either. If anything, it demanded him to be even more suspicious.

The morning before his birthday - the day, his guests would arrive - was pretty much the start of the weirdness. The Master of Death awoke to slight, soft mumbling next to him. While he had no need for sleep anymore, he found the act rather comforting. Nevertheless, as he turned around to face his two lovers, he had to cock his head in confusion. What were they doing?

Tom was more or less being cuddled to death by Barty, who had put his head on top of his black locks as he enveloped his middle with one arm. It wasn’t unusual for Bartemius to comfort their leader if he had his nightmares, but they usually weren’t  _ this  _ close. The Death Eater was even whispering sweet, consoling nothings to the other, who was slightly shaking.

This worried Harry - was he in Purgatory again? But none of the usual signs were present; the area around him even became colder because of his concern, something, which had never happened there with Death. He also felt his bonds to the two others and Tom’s soul-piece clinging to him. So, this must have been real, he concluded. 

With furrowed brows, he slightly touched Barty’s cheek to make him aware of him being awake; the latter looked up at him and smiled apologetically as if he had physically hurt the Necromancer by waking him up. But he said nothing to explain the situation and his mind seemed focused solely on comforting the older mage. The undead student decided to not bother them for now, seeing his mate clearly needed this right now. So he simply cuddled up to his husbands back and nuzzled his neck - only for him to ever so slightly tense. Riddle quickly relaxed again, though, so he probably had not recognized him immediately. Despite that hurting the slightest bit, Harry closed his eyes in relaxation, listening to the other’s heartbeat and breathing to remind himself he was okay and alive. This was most important to him - his two favorite souls being with him and being healthy.  Well, it would have been better if the two had come to him for cuddles, instead of teaming up against him. But he told himself this kind of jealousy was idiotic and rested like this for a while, having no better places to be for now, anyway.

He had written this off as a mere coincidence, a single occurrence no one needed to worry about. But today, these kinds of things seemed to happen with a high frequency.

At one point, they had gotten up and were about to dress. Tom pulled out some plain, black robes, which surely had cost him a fortune. Harry minded his own business - why would he care about his husband and lover dressing, after all? Although it was regrettable to see all that skin vanish… Either way, he himself put on some lighter, but also black robes, quite to the approvement of his fashion-sensitive husband. Barty did not care to put on robes - Harry did not think he possessed any besides his Death Eater get-up. For him, a shirt and waistcoat were usual.

No, what  _ disturbed _ him was his master looking at himself in the mirror, touching his neck with all the hickeys, too, before taking out his wand to heal them. Offended, the Master of Death whined to stop him “No!” 

Stopping in his tracks and turning around to look at him in puzzled amusement, Tom questioned “...No?” With a smirk, he pointed out “I don’t intend to look like this around our guests, love.” 

“But…  _ I _ put them on you for a reason; not for you to vanish them the next morning… They won’t mind, master,”  he huffily started to wager with him. Why would they care about  _ his _ soul wearing  _ his _ marks? They weren’t bloody 5-year-olds! They knew they were having sex.

Snorting next to him, Barty betrayed him, also. “Sunshine, I think that would look a tad bit weird. Also, you always heal your hickeys and everything else, too. Would you want them to see bruises on you?” Harry felt his demands were not taken seriously at all, which made him flustered. 

“That’s something completely different, though! I heal them because they won’t heal on their own and because I don’t want them to think I’m being abused by you!” No one would think the apprentice abused his husband and the latter was human; the blemishes would heal, sadly.

“Love, I am  _ not _ going to keep them…. You’ll simply have to make new ones in a few days, I suppose,” the Dark Lord made him an unspoken offer - Harry liked that, but still. When Riddle made a move to heal himself, Harry held his hand up and promptly transported his master’s wand away into his own hands. Bewildered, his husband locked eyes with him and slowly uttered “...Is this supposed to be a prank, love? If so, it’s poorly executed.”

This was no prank! What was wrong with Tom? ‘ _ Isn’t it obvious, though? He doesn’t want to be seen as yours,’ _ the voice in his mind egged him on further, as he held the wand in his hand. ‘ _ He wants it the other way around - he wants to own you, be the new Master of Death…’  _ Despite having cast with it a million times before, it did not resonate with him  _ at all _ . Harry blamed it on his replaced magic. 

Slightly confused, Tom expectantly reached his arm out and went up toward him “Love… give me my wand, will you?” 

“ _ Why _ ? So you can heal the marks? I’d rather not, master,” the younger, dark mage became stubborn and took a step back toward the bed, away from Barty and Tom. He wished the latter were as meek as yesterday. That way, his mate did not question him all the time. 

“Yes, to heal the marks. I can’t run around like this, it’s unbefitting of me,” Tom wriggled his fingers, but Harry still made no move to return the weapon. “ _ Love _ …” his master dangerously warned, while Barty watched on, unable to choose a side. “This isn’t funny…”

“But it’s my birthday, master…” The former human still declined, inching away more. He felt slightly trapped in the narrow room. 

With a heavy sigh, his mate pointed out to him “Tomorrow is your birthday… Give me my wand.” His tone became slightly less amused and more nervous. Ruby eyes shifted toward his other servant, who seemed even more conflicted now.

“Hm… I think not. Only, if you promise to not heal yourself. Otherwise er… I might accidentally vanish it to Purgatory. I haven’t got the hang of it, yet, you see…” As he outright blackmailed the other, the wand in his hands grew unhappy, he could feel. Why didn’t it obey him anymore? He owned it, too!

Red eyes locked with his grey ones, staring him down. “That was no request, that was an order, Harry. The wand,  _ now _ .” Why did his bond-mate have this anxious feeling about him? His soul should not question his safety in his presence…

“Sunshine, come on… Don’t be like that,” Crouch Jr’s tongue flicked out before he could stop it, even when he was trying to sound calm. 

“I want a promise, master…” Grey eyes kept on staring right back, disobedient. ‘ _ If he doesn’t promise, he doesn’t love you…’ _  Was that really true? ‘ _ Why else wouldn’t he? Love is more powerful than embarrassment…’ _ Harry craved reassurance again; he wanted to have his partner confess his love to him again. 

Somehow, the Legilimense must have heard some parts of his thoughts as he swallowed and grunted “ _ Fine _ … I won’t heal them, then. Don’t be surprised if I hurt your friends, however. I won’t let myself be ridiculed.” 

Overjoyed, Harry surrendered the wand to him immediately, only for his mate to cheat him. Tom returned to the closet and changed into robes with a higher neck, effectively hiding the hickeys. “Hey! That’s not fair... “ He began to pout in honest hurt. Why was his soul deceiving him? Perhaps the Master of Death wasn’t good enough as a mate…

Witty, Tom remarked, “You should work on your deal-making, love.” When Tom perceived his genuine sadness, he slowly approached him and touched his chin to make him look at him again with a perfect frown. “Now, what’s wrong? You aren’t actually sad about this, are you?” Even then, his master did not seem so sure about that.

Biting his lips, he lied “N-No…” 

“Somehow, I am not convinced,” the Slytherin cooed sympathetically, although a feeling of irritation reached Harry through the bond.

“Do you love me?” The youngest Death Eater insecurely asked again, not quite sure anymore.

The corner of his mouth was kissed before the taller one concluded “Of course. Why are you even asking?” 

“J-Just wondering…” Death incarnate sheepishly stated, hoping he had not offended the other with it. Almost, he wanted to ask him a second time, whether he was still loved. 

But his master already withdrew again, regarding him in worry. “I think the excitement for your birthday has messed your head up, somehow.” Harry blushed as the other glanced at a clock in the room “Speaking of it, your guests should arrive any moment. Maybe we should go downstairs.” 

Harry still thought, his mate was the one being weird today. He himself was perfectly normal! After all, he had only made one sensical request and his husband had denied him. So this only added to the general weirdness of the day. He thought on that issue a while longer, searching for reasons. Had he done something wrong yesterday? Had he perhaps hurt his husband?  But he found nothing within his mind, no indicator for having messed up. Maybe his own birthday had indeed made him a bit too nervous… Perhaps he should let this rest for the day after tomorrow when he had a clearer head again? But he could not stop worrying, his mind muddied by thoughts of insecurity and suspicion. Death had told him to act intuitively - his intuition was telling him to be on guard. But why? They were having a fun, little get-together today. What bad could come of this? 

Before Harry knew it, he sat at a table on the terrace of the Manor. He was seated between Tom and Barty, while his friends and family surrounded them. Ron and his parents, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus had come over - he had tried to invite all the Weasleys, except Ginny, at first, but that had been forbidden by his master. Too dangerous and too stressful, he had said. Harry had tried to disagree, but - sometimes - he actually had to obey his master.

Somehow, the Master of Death could not bring up the concentration to fully engage in the conversation. His concerns still clouded his mind, somewhat. Also, he simply enjoyed being in their presence, too. He loved silence - he had no need for words, when he could be close to their souls. But, fairly quickly, he was directly addressed by Molly and couldn’t remain quiet anymore. “Sweety, what’s wrong? You’re normally not this silent… and you’re pale, too! Are you ill?” Put of guard, he regarded her, but she did not mention his grey eyes yet. Surely, she did not want to offend him. 

“No, I’m fine... “ He told her, because - really - what else was he supposed to say? He could hardly tell her being merged with Death and his husband not showing off his marks were troubling him. She’d not understand, he felt. How could she? She wasn’t married to Tom, after all. She did not know, how it felt to be worried about being loved. In the end, everyone loved her! Not Harry, however; there was so much to hate about him, so much to ridicule. It was a miracle he had found two souls, who loved him.  _ He hoped _ .

Tom, growing more comfortable to converse with the Weasleys, joked “He’s been like that the whole day. We think he’s simply excited for his birthday.” But, somehow, Harry could not care less about his birthday. He’d have an indefinite amount of them - what was so special about this one in his mate’s eye? Again, Tom and Barty were weirding him out. 

Remus, staring at his former student, concluded “So excited he spontaneously turned undead?” 

Harry wanted to curse the werewolf’s sense of smell; how dare the other dark creature betray him like this? While a few people were confused by that statement, the other half was not. For the half, which did not understand, the Necromancer said “No, I’ve been undead for a while now. To make it er… short: I died a few months ago and Death did not manage to heal me completely. So… I’m not human anymore. It’s not too bad, though.” He wished the fake version were true. But at least he did not have to explain the whole  _ I-Am-The-Master-Of-Death-situation _ to them, too, making this quick and painless.

Black, immediately flustered, freaked out “ _ Not too bad _ ? Harry, how in Merlin’s name isn’t this bad!” Beside him, his werewolf seemed slightly injured by his words and wanted to make him calm down. “No, Remus!”

Harry used that to his advantage “You are together with a dark creature and you don’t mind. Why is it different with me?” Why did this even matter to Sirius? He was  _ only _ his human godfather. “It doesn’t matter, anyway… It’s irreversible.” 

Remus, who pressed his lips together unhappily, wondered “You’re usually not one to give up like this… Is there truly no way?” Harry wished he could muster up that level of optimism - perhaps he should eat more chocolate. 

Staring at him neutrally, the Necromancer concluded “No, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Remus, I surely don’t like being undead, but it could be far worse. At least I’m not rotting or in need of human flesh. I’ve accepted it.” Within his mind, the undead one secretly compared himself to Greyback more than Remus. But that was still a touchy subject for the other, so he kept it to himself. “And if anything should arise, I know how to handle it. If not, master will,” he shrugged and glanced at Tom. 

The latter held his hands up in defense, however, “As far as Necromancy is concerned, you have surpassed my abilities, I’m afraid. I don’t think I would be of much more help than dear Bartemius, here.” 

The mentioned Death Eater puffed his chest, proudly stating “I read up on it, though! And I understood like - at least - half of it. So, I’m not entirely helpless anymore, okay?” Harry blushed at that; he had not thought the other would care enough for him to make an effort. There were far more important issues, Harry knew. In the past week at the Manor, Barty had often vanished for hours at a time. Presumably for his torture-business. Luckily, he and Tom barely were gone at the same time, so he seldom had to feel lonely. 

“That’s rather depressing, coming from a supposed DADA Professor…” Riddle regarded his servant funnily, before suggesting “Maybe  _ I _ should teach the children instead.” 

But Professor Crouch was not having it, joking “I think all of them would fail the class intentionally to not be taught by you, my Lord. Or they’d be too scared to say anything. I’m glad I finally got the 1st years to speak to me! And I am  _ only _ a Death Eater.”

“But you’re a very… likable servant. I suppose it would be worse had I put Bellatrix in your place,” Tom actually produced a smile “Or maybe Greyback… After all, Hogwarts is so very accepting of werewolves.” The dark creature sitting at the table snorted slightly at that, not offended by the joke. 

Arthur used that chance to enter the conversation, too, outright complimenting Barty “Well, I had the notion Crouch was very liked by the kids, too. Although Ginny told me your style of teaching was pretty uh… innovative.” 

The Death Eater grinned too widely, stating “Oh… I somehow have to entertain myself, after all. Sev just won’t let me torture the children, hm… So I had to search for other means.” The younger Death Eater knew he was lying. Barty would never hurt a child intentionally. But, sometimes, they actually had to keep up appearances, he supposed. Ron nervously chuckled at that, not quite sure if that had been a joke or not. Bold, Crouch Jr hummed “My Lord, you should make me Headmaster. I’d surely be a better, more likable fit than Severus.” 

“No, I’d rather not. Your skillset isn’t adequate for that position. And I have to keep Severus busy before he runs off to become a double spy again. Clearly, the position of Potions’ Master did not fulfill him,” the Dark Lord sardonically chuckled, which managed to earn him some bonus points with Sirius. 

After a few more semi-mean, semi-flirtatious remarks of Riddle toward Barty, it finally happened. Someone had the guts to ask about this new development. That brave person was Molly, who was far too curious for her own good and far too accepting of the mass-murderer sitting at the table. With slightly red cheeks, she voiced “Say, you three… are you  _ just _ friends? Because I think you’d fit together marvelously-” 

“M-Mom!” Ron cried out in embarrassment.

”-Molly!” Others voiced in alarm. 

Immediately, Barty used that chance to declare “We’re more than friends-”   
“Well, you and Harry are,” Tom cut him off, however, not allowing him to go too far. With a secret, sorry look on his face, he said, “And since I have no choice and can’t avoid you, I have to endure you, too.” 

Crouch seemed genuinely disappointed at the other, staring at the Manor’s facade blankly. ‘ _ Could have at least said we’re friends-with-cuddle-benefits…’ _ Self-deprecatingly, he laughed “Of course, my Lord…” 

Knowing he had to say something now, too, Harry explained “Ron and Hermione already know, but, yes, Barty and I er… have a thing going on. No need to scold me, however, they already did.” Well, that had come out more spitefully than intended. So, he tried again “I know you only meant well, of course…” He did not want to go talk this through again. He did not want his bonds questioned. He wanted to cuddle with his two mates, keep them in their bed, where they were safe and could not escape him. 

Hermione tried to comfort him “We did. And don’t worry; I know it isn’t easy to be coddled like that.” 

Grumbling and speaking out of the experience, Ronald huffed “ _ Yeah _ .” Granger shot him a death glare. 

Remus was concerned for his cub. “I knew it- I smelled Crouch on you…!” He whispered under his breath, before directing his attention toward Tom “And you… let this happen?” Sirius seemed equally as interested in that.

The dark-haired man shrugged “I only do, what makes my bond-mate happy, in the end. For entirely selfish reasons, of course.” He smirked to himself, before patting Harry’s thigh for a moment. Why did it not linger? The latter almost wanted to catch his hand, as it left him again. “What good would forbidding this do me? I don’t want my husband to be depressed and to resent me. And I don’t want to encourage anyone plotting against me within my ranks, either. And at least Bartemius  _ did _ plot.” He squinted his eyes at the Hufflepuff, who suddenly became very small in his chair. “Not very well, if I dare say so, however.”

“...You  _ knew _ ?!” The horrified Death Eater squeaked and Harry had to wonder, what this was about. 

“Perhaps you should have done your Unbreakable Vow with someone else and not Severus, hm? Did you not notice it being nullified by another vow? I suppose you don’t hold your liquor as well as you’d like to. Were Severus someone more dear to me, I’d have punished you for threatening him, too.”

Feeling morbidly interested, the Master of Death requested “What kind of plot was that- Why did no one tell me!”  _ Again _ , Tom had withheld information from him. In mild embarrassment, he observed a bit of frost beginning to settle on glasses nearby. But, nevertheless, he felt beyond hurt. Did he not matter to them?

Defeated, Tom could not decline upon his pleading look, “He threatened Severus to produce him a Love Potion.  _ For me _ . Luckily, my Unbreakable Vow with Severus canceled the new one out, so my little spy could come to me instead and brewed a harmless, effectless potion. I suppose Barty knew the Vow failed - after all, if not, Severus would be rather dead now. But he might not  have guessed the reason and that his brother would actually rat him out.” 

Ignoring that, Barty meekly inquired “If you knew, though… why didn’t you kill me?”

Annoyed to have his authority questioned and Barty getting his hopes up again, he sighed “Haven’t you listened? If I had killed you, my husband would not have reacted kindly to it, regardless of anything. And I do think there are worse offenses; at least you did not try to outright kill me. Also, I did punish you on that day.” 

“And there I thought you’d say ‘ _ Barty, because I have always loved you!’ _ You can be so mean sometimes,” the brown-haired male pouted, not grateful to still be alive. 

“Then be grateful you aren’t infatuated with me or that would be daily life for you,” the dark mage slyly answered, seeing the irony in it. Harry felt his gut wrench. 

While his two dearest souls continued to go on in that fashion, Harry felt kind of… empty. Despite having been consoled so often, he could not help but feel jealousy gnawing at him. Like in Purgatory, he felt as if the two were doing just fine without him. Life was going on without him lifting a finger as if he did not matter at all. This felt off - why wasn’t anyone giving him attention? As of now, Tom and Bartemius had spoken the most.  Together with the other occurrences, he felt abandoned. He mindlessly watched on, as his primary mate chuckled at one of Barty’s remarks. Weirdly enough, through his bond, he felt no feeling of joy. His mate emitted a slight feeling of distress and sorrow for some reason, despite his happy appearance. Barty felt the same. 

The Master of Death concluded, he himself was somehow broken. This could not be right, what he was feeling. It did not resonate with reality at all. Had he messed up the bonds? Or had he somehow hurt his mates’ deeper beings, their very essence? ‘ _ You know, perhaps you really are hurting them by being with them. Or maybe they are just hiding stuff… Tom did not consult you this morning, either. Maybe he wants Barty to comfort him.’ _ It hurt.

* * *

“Harry, we’d like to speak with you,” Remus sympathetically put his unnaturally warm hand on his shoulder, while Hermione, Ron, and Sirius gathered around him. Barty and Tom still sat at the table, watching on in suspicion, while Molly told them some story. But they made no move to save him, either.

Seeing no way of escape, Harry shrugged in defeat “Sure, let’s go inside to talk.” He led them toward the living room, anticipating the worst. This could not end well, he just knew it. What would they say? That he was irresponsible? That he looked sick? He wished he had the guts to just apparate away. It didn’t matter, anyway.

The four people sat on a couch, while he sat on an armchair next to them. Lupin abused his gentle nature to lull him into security, softly stating “Cub… we’re really worried about you.”

“What gives?” The Gryffindor tried to sound dapper, but miserably failed. 

“I know we’ve asked this before, but… do they really treat you well?” The werewolf tried to touch him again, but he shuffled away - perhaps not the best movement to assure him of his safety, he realized. But he simply did not want to be touched by him right now. When Harry did not reply, he went on “You see… You really are more silent than usual and you look sick - even for an undead. Also, Hermione told us you had her research about reoccurring nightmares… Harry, are they hurting you? Or is Crouch hurting you? It’s okay to admit something isn’t okay- “

“Everything is okay, Remus,” he curtly replied, casting his eyes at the floor. Nothing was okay, but at least it wasn’t wrong in that way. Cynical, he wished this were his problem. At least then, he’d know what’s wrong and how to solve it. At least this would be something earthly, something mortal. 

But he was not believed. Sirius also tried his best to be there for his godson, suggesting “Harry… Look- The two of them, they’re much older and much stronger than you. I’m uh… sure you love them and that sometimes makes you do  _ crazy _ things, but- I- If they hurt you, it’s okay to admit that. We can help you, bring you to safety-”

“They are not hurting me. I’m not being raped by them if that’s, what you’re saying,” the Death Eater tiredly clarified and wanted to explain more, but was cut off. Apparently, not even his friends cared for his words. ‘ _ No surprise there… They are mortal, of course, they don’t understand you.’ _

His most intelligent friend started to name more reasons for their assumptions “But it all fits together so well. Isn’t it weird they brought you to this remote Manor? Or that Professor Crouch keeps you around after class all the time? Harry, you’re being groomed.” 

“What-  _ no _ ! ‘Mione-” 

“You show all the signs. Nightmares, obsessive behavior, aggression, clinginess, and you withdrew from us over time! Also, to top it off, Ron has seen you littered with bruises more often than not in the dorm,” she argued with him and he did not really know, how to dispute her claims. 

Nevertheless, he whined “Guys, that’s not how it is, at all! You don’t- You don’t even know, what you’re talking about!”   
“Harry, please listen-”

“No, you listen!” He became a bit less meek, aggression making his magic convulse. ‘ _ See?’ _ How dare they! “In these two years or so, how often have you seen me interact with my mates? You don’t know  _ anything _ about our relationship-” 

Sirius became frustrated “But withdrawal is a symptom!”

He wanted to disapparate, he really did. Already, he was making a move to stand up. ‘ _ Just go home.’ _  But werewolf-puppy-eyes regarded him, as Lupin pleaded “Harry, please wait. We’re just worried and we have barely seen anything speaking against it.” When the former Savior still looked enraged, he took out a small vial out of his pockets, claiming “Look… maybe we are wrong and biased. How about… you take some Veritaserum? And then you answer us again? Then we’d be sure.”

He did not like this at all. This had been planned for a longer time, hadn’t it been? Even then, he did not want them to keep on assuming stuff. ‘ _ Why make the effort?’ _  So he took the vial of clear liquid, smelling at it briefly. When the smell of pure nothingness greeted him, he chugged it in one go. After a minimal period of time, he again said, “They are not hurting me.”

His friends seemed suspicious, and Hermione asked “What of the nightmares, then? And you withdrawing- and  _ everything _ else?” 

Rubbing over his face once, the Death Eater started to unwillingly explain “Hermione, I only asked you to research the nightmares. I’m not the one, who has them. I withdraw because I simply worry about my husband and Barty and therefore spend more time with them. You all are rather safe, so why would I watch out for you much? E-Er… and the bruises- Barty is just a tad bit  _ rough _ . So that’s, why.” When Ron scrunched his nose up, he hissed “You asked.” Harry was simply glad he finally go to talk without being interrupted.  _ ‘You should not thank them for common decency.’ _

“Cub, that doesn’t mean you haven’t been groomed by them-”

“I wasn’t. I fell in love with master, before he ever suggested such a thing to me. He surely wasn’t against me being this young, but he did not initially start it. I had a crush on him on my first meeting with him. He gave me multiple opportunities to back away from this; I didn’t. Also, he’d pretty much be the last person to groom someone- A-Anyway, Barty did not do anything to me, either. He might have initiated it, but my husband would have surely stopped him if he had had any intentions in that regard. Lastly… I’m clingy because I love them and feel a deep need to protect them. Not, because they force me to or whatever. Have I convinced you?” He wanted to scold himself for almost going too far and telling them about Tom’s past - Veritaserum was dangerous. 

They nodded, which had him relax and lean back in the chair. But a certain witch was not appeased, yet. “Who is the research for, then? And why wouldn’t your husband do this? He’s done so many, abominable acts- I doubt this would be the worst of them.”

Now he had done it. Awkwardly, he tried not to answer “I er…”  _ Shouldn’t  _ or _ can’t _ tell you, was what he had wanted to say. But those weren’t full truths. His master had not explicitly forbidden him from telling. “Er…” 

“Harry?” They tried to motivate him. 

‘ _ Master… I’ve done something bad.’ _

_ ‘I’ve seen, love.’ _

_ ‘Help?’ _ He begged his husband, who seemed rather conflicted about his deed. 

Compromising, Tom sighed ‘ _ Just tell them about my nightmares and hope they forget about the second question. Don’t talk to them about my past.’ _

“T-The nightmares… Er- My husband has them, not me. It’s for him,” Harry finally admitted, hoping that would appease them. “They’re pretty bad since I died that first time and normal stuff doesn’t help. So… I asked you to research it some; I tried it myself, but I did not get half of it, honestly. He, neither. We’re simply too removed from Muggles to know, what most of it means.” 

“Oh.” Hermione blushed the slightest bit, before inquiring “Well… I did find some things, I suppose. They usually suggest going to a therapist or speaking about it to loved ones - The latter he obviously did. What are the nightmares about? That might make it easier to help.” Despite this research being for Tom, she remained incredibly neutral, Harry thought. He had expected her to not aid him anymore. Meanwhile, the others became awkward, not liking to be part of this discussion. The undead one could not care less - they had brought this upon themselves. 

After another prompt by his husband, Harry admitted “I am not allowed to tell.” 

“Is it always the same dream? About some special event? Harry, I need some input,” the Muggle-born sighed. 

“It is always the same one, as far as I can tell. Always about the same event,” he shyly informed her, uncomfortable on his husband’s behalf. “The nightmares get worse when something bad happens, like me dying. It takes ages for them to get better, too.” Harry felt like shit. He was the reason his spouse was in mental anguish all the time. And, what if nothing would make it better? His mere existence was causing the other trouble - not existing would be no option, either. ‘ _ But you don’t have to exist here, you know that, don’t you?’ _

After a brief moment to consider his answers, she replied “Hm… well, as I said: Therapy would probably be the best choice. But-”   
“He’d never do that. Master would rather die than go to a doctor,” the Gryffindor sighed in sadness. There was no way in hell he would be able to motivate his husband to do this. How would that even work, anyway? Theoretically, they weren’t even real citizens with health insurance or anything. They’d have to hex the doctor.

“I guessed as much. Then you can only try to work on it yourself. Having a loved-one nearby to sleep is good, I read. But it would also help to have a regular bedtime and a safe environment to sleep in. I know you don’t have the former and I guess the latter is also a bit hard when you move around this much… But there isn’t much else, which could help. Whatever he is dreaming about, he’d have to come to terms with it.” She helplessly motioned with her hands, making his heart break.

“Guess it’s our only shot… I don’t think to come to terms with it will happen anytime soon, ‘Mione. But, thanks anyway,” he weakly smiled at her. He knew she had given her best - she always did - but there were times, where your best just wasn’t enough. The consort doubted Tom would get over his past after more than 70 years. Especially not, when he did not grow close with Barty again. But when would that happen? And did he  _ want _ it to happen? With the two being this weird, he felt scared of it.

He did not want to be the third wheel suddenly. Why wasn’t his own love enough? Why couldn’t he comfort his bond-mate? ‘ _ You know, why. Because Barty is dearer to him. Maybe you should just let it happen. If you truly loved your husband, you’d do everything to make him happy again. Don’t stand in their way and be the party-pooper.’ _ He felt utterly useless. 

Remus, trying to be lighthearted, assured him “I’m sure it’ll work out. I don’t have the impression much can scare him, anyway. He’d not be where he is today if he weren’t strong. And I’d doubt anyone could be troubled for long with you around, cub.” 

“Thank you,” Harry tried to be happy for them, but couldn’t. He felt like they were talking about another person, not about him. As of now, Harry had been the cause of trouble, not the solution. 

‘ _ Love, please don’t say that about yourself- Are you even listening to yourself? If it weren’t for you, all of us would be much worse off. Just compare my lifestyle before you joined me to the one afterward. Or Bartemius’ for that instance. He even stopped drinking for the most part. It’s not your fault if things go wrong,’ _ his husband finally intervened, fed up with his negativity and hurt by it. But Harry still thought this was wrong - Tom was the one needing help, not him. ‘ _ Stop it, I said. We’ve been over this- I’m not a baby in need of constant supervision. I do require your help and love, but I don’t want you to give yourself up in the process.’ _

_ ‘This is my purpose, master.’ _

He felt a sense of horrified understanding wash over his mate before he concluded ‘ _ No, it bloody isn’t! Your purpose is not to serve others and lose yourself in it.’  _ Most parts of Harry did not understand this statement. Of course, that was his role. He was Death  _ and _ a Death Eater. Both were born to serve. ‘ _ You are far more than that and you know it.’ _

_ ‘Look at that! He’s even ready to lie to your face, so he’ll feel better. You know he wants to possess you and your power, use it.’ _ The voice warned him of his mate’s lies, but he did not know, whether to trust it. ‘ _ Then name me a reason, why else he’d say that.’  _

‘ _ Love, please don’t ignore me. Keeping silent isn’t an option I’m willing to explore,’ _ Tom interrupted his thought process, which had Harry furrow his brows, as the other four people in the room chatted with each other. Apparently, Tom couldn’t hear the voice. Had he gone insane?

His mind, however, provided ‘ _ No, you’re not. You’ve simply cut his access to parts of your mind off. He’s too nosy, anyway. Do you really want him to know about this? If you did, you could have told him earlier.’  _ Harry agreed; he did not want his master to know. Especially not, when said person should be worrying about his own issues more. 

‘ _ Harry?’ _

‘ _ I’m sorry, master.’ _   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy times are ending for Harry again but, really, 1 1/2 chapters of peace are enough for him! Now, truly tense times are coming. But I'll make the ending happy - at least, I'll try.
> 
> Thanks for the 60+ kudos, they mean a lot! And your comments also make me happy, of course! <3


	9. Red on White, Wrong and Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds out, his mates weren't all that honest with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me (\\(o~o(\\)

**Chapter 9**

**Red on White, Wrong and Right**

* * *

* * *

 

“Harry?” The Master of Death was rudely awoken by his husband as he laid on a couch. His birthday had been more than a week ago.

“Huh?”

Kissing his temple briefly, the other uneasily declared “I’ll be gone for a few hours but I should be back by nightfall.” Tom did seem quite nervous despite his usual coolness, his aura making small, erratic movements. He seemed very much aware of that fact, hence him not being able to mask his distress.

Harry had to furrow his brows, as he sat up slowly. He couldn’t even remember when he had fallen asleep. He shouldn’t involuntarily do so, either. “Where are you going? Is Barty-”

“Barty’s taking care of the siblings again; I’m going to the Ministry,” Riddle sighed since he expected his mate to not take this well. He was right in his assumption. Harry disliked the two being gone all the time and leaving him to his own devices. Sometimes, they only came back at night, collapsed in their bed, and went straight to sleep only to vanish the next morning again.

Touching the other’s shoulder in thought, the undead one requested “Can’t I come with? I don’t like being alone.” Well, he did not have anything against it per se. But he did not like _both_ his mates leaving his vicinity at once! He needed to protect them from themselves. “I can hide beneath my cloak and I can apparate you everywhere!” He advertised his services to his master, timidly gripping his dark, soft cloak now. Harry already knew the answer, but not the reasoning behind it. This time, he wouldn’t let his husband vanish without a word, however!

“No, love. Someone has to stay here. With all of the murders in our family, I’m not willing to leave Nagini here alone or risk someone breaking in and murdering us in our sleep. As far as we know, they are fairly adept at their craft. And they could be anyone- People found out about my Horcruxes before, Harry, especially the siblings. Stay here and protect the Manor,” his master started to name arguments, which only halfway appeased him. But before he could talk back, the other voiced “And, no, you will not put Nagini in Purgatory. I ah…” Tom stocked before making an uncomfortable request “I would also appreciate it if you could relocate the Diadem away from there. With all these inconsistencies, I’m not feeling entirely… safe.”

With grey, sad eyes, he stared at his husband. He was making his bond-mate feel threatened? Around him, he knew the temperature was dropping, which only increased his embarrassment. ‘ _Can’t even trust his mate anymore, can he? Perhaps you should give Barty the Horcrux, that would make him feel better.’_ Averting his eyes and staring at an interesting painting behind Tom, he answered “Of course, master. I’ll search for something safer on this realm and stay here.” But how could anything be safe if Harry was there as the Master of Death? If Tom did not trust him anymore, no place would be protected well enough against him and his powers. As long as Harry knew of the Diadem’s existence, it was in danger, wasn’t it?

His cheeks were slightly squished between gentle fingers as the other remarked “Thank you, love. I know this isn’t… ideal. But the enemy could be everywhere and anyone.”

Shocked, the Gryffindor backed away from his lover in offense, snapping “But not _me_!” How could his mate openly suggest, he was the foe? The former tried to touch him again, but he pushed his hands away angrily.

“Harry- That’s not, how I meant it. Of course, I know you didn’t kill any of your siblings. Me requesting you to relocate the Horcrux wasn’t related to that. I’m simply worried about using Purgatory for _anything_ when half of your powers and limitations make no sense. What if something happens, which destroys the Horcrux? You can’t just bring it back and I can’t take another one breaking.” Finally, the older mage managed to touch him again, tenderly caressing his cheek and hair. “You’re so… paranoid and insecure, as of lately. Is everything alright?” He asked, but seemed to know the answer already, too.

The accusation almost made him want to hiss at Tom, but he realized that would support the point made. He couldn’t have the other worry for him uselessly. Tom had far too many problems, which needed to be sorted out. So he blushed and pointed out “J-Just a bit stressed out about everything, I guess. I’m sorry, master.” He truly was. Disappointed, the former Savior wished he were someone stronger than himself. Someone, who could protect his mates from others and his own shortcomings.

“Hm…” Tom made in thought, studying his face. “You never call me by my name anymore. Harry… did I order you around too much? Is this the issue? If so, you can talk to me about it. I don’t believe you simply being overworked.” With a huff, he added, “You’re usually far more open about this sort of thing. I know you are hiding things from me and I do not appreciate it.”

“I-I… I simply like calling you master. And I’m not overworked, I’m stressed out because I’m concerned,” he felt little as the Dark Lord scolded him, worried he’d be left even sooner, now.

An unreadable expression resting on his face, the orphan stated, “But you do not decline to hiding certain issues from me.”

Slightly fed up with his hypocrisy, the student pointed out “You hide stuff, too. It’s not like I know most of you…” But he already regretted his words as they left his mouth. He had just upset his mate, hadn’t he? Couldn’t he do anything right?

“But I don’t hide things, which are hurting me. I hide trivial matters on accident. _You_ told me to be open, I followed your advice. What does Barty’s plot or our shared vaults change about my personality? Yes, nothing. You, in comparison, are hiding something vital right now, which is causing you distress,” Riddle clarified, his tone slightly icy. Desperate, he voiced “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” Again, the Gryffindor thought him to not do, what he preached. Tom was in distress, too, and did not say anything about it.

Also, Harry did not want him to aid him, so he said, “I don’t need to be helped, master.” He was a lost cause anyway. ‘ _One day, you’ll understand.’_

His ruby eyes dark, the older one spitefully told him “Then watch me suffer, too. I hope you realize that I am not happy, while you are hurting. I haven’t bonded you to see you become depressed and wither away.” Without another word - which was probably best for their relationship - Tom disapparated and left him alone. He knew the other had a hard time with feelings, so he did not mind much.

‘ _Don’t worry,  he’ll come around. Soon enough, he’ll be grateful for your sacrifice.’_ The voice soothed his turbulent emotions or at least tried to. A feeling of numbness reached the Master of Death, reminding him of the Headboy’s Quarters. ‘ _If only you had no feelings, you’d be happier as a whole.’_

Sliding off the couch, Harry silently made his way to the remaining two, small beings in the Manor. He felt their lifeforce clearly, as he approached the dining room. Two sets of scaly tails peeked out from under the table.

“ **_Hey… Would you mind coming with me? I have to watch you,_ ** ” he mindlessly told them, feeling slightly lonely anyway. The two snakes slowly made their way toward him, looking slightly unwilling to comply. “ **_We’ll just go to the living room. I’ll help you on the couch, too,_ **” the Parselmouth motivated the two, before making his way there with them in tow. Once there, he kept his promises and aided the heavy creatures onto the softer furniture. Normally, Barty did not allow that sort of thing. But he wasn’t there, was he? Nagini loosely curled up, before her sister, Snow, wriggled close to her. Snow had grown quite a bit, now almost half Nagini’s size and weight.

Harry sat down next to them, lazily patting over their scales. Nagini, being the older and more experienced snake, noticed his upset state. “ **_Hatchling iss sssad?_ **” Her tongue lightly licked his left arm as she let it wriggle around.

“ **_Yes… I made master sad because I’m a bad mate. And now I am sad, too._ **” He admitted to her in easy words. She’d probably inform Tom, but he did not mind much. It’s not like he’d tell her much. Within her, the Horcrux resonated with himself. But it felt far too weak; their link had been stronger before. He did not deem this dire, either. If he faded out of existence a bit, that would do everyone a favor.

“ **_Why are you bad?_ ** ” Tom’s trustworthy companion seemed angry at him for disappointing her high expectations. “ **_Becausse you have not produced offsspring for masster? Sssmal masster hass to eat more. Hass to be healthy._ **” She offered her helpful advice and made him giggle. But Harry wasn’t sure, whether that had been intentional.

“ **_I’m male, Nagini. I can’t make er… hatchlings._ ** ” He corrected her, but she cocked her big head at him. He supposed snakes had no concept for gay relationships. “ **_No… I’m a bad mate because I can’t protect master well enough. He does not feel safe with me anymore. I think he’d be better off with a different mate._ **” Was he really having a pep-talk with a snake? He supposed this would be his life now, with Barty caring for Tom.

“ **_Nagini can help protect._ ** ” She offered him, at which Snow also offered her help. “ **_Hatchling hass to make an appealing nessst for master. That makess him safe._ ** ” To further help him, she explained “ **_Sssoft materials. A cave. Much prey in area. That’sss a better nesst than thisss._ **”

He somehow doubted Tom would enjoy living in a cave, so he laughed “ **_Not much could top this. This is a pretty great nest for humans. What’s so bad about this nest, hm?_ **” He should speak to the two more often. They made him happy. At least those two snakes couldn’t be messed up by him.

Vehemently, both of the snakes disagreed. Nagini even seemed deeply insulted on her master’s behalf. “ **_Thiss nesst isss bad. Too many openingss, not build by hatchling. This iss the nesst of the evil human, who made massster ssad. Very bad._ ** ” He had not known Nagini to resent Barty like that. But it made sense - she loved Tom a lot and cared for him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have forced his husband to accept Crouch back. But, at the same time, they seemed to be growing close again. He had no feeling for what was right or wrong anymore. “ **_The evil human ssshouldn’t be here. He’sss trying to steal masster._ **”

This snake was just as jealous as him, he saw. However, he found this a little weird. Nagini should not make this assumption - when would she even have seen Tom and Barty interact? The snakes weren’t allowed upstairs and in the bedroom. “ **_Why do you think that?_ **” Was he too paranoid? But he felt his intuition telling him to question this, making him say the words without much thought.

“ **_The evil human often issolatess masster from hiss mate. He speaksss to him in other roomss about masster’s mate._ ** ” When he questioned, how’d she understand the topic, she huffily pointed out at having her intelligence questioned “ **_Nagini heard hatchling’ss name. ‘Harry’. The evil human iss planning ssomething. He ssometimes makesss masster cry, too._ **”

What? He could not decide, whether this intel was helpful or utterly confusing. Why would Barty take Tom to other rooms, talk about him, and then make Tom cry? And how had the Necromancer not noticed this?

Snow also voiced her findings “ **_Ssometimess, they go to the cave below at night. The evil human almost sstepped on uss!_ **”

‘ _The cave-_ ’ They meant the cellar, Harry suddenly concluded. The cellar, which he and Tom had been told not to go in. Could it, his blood would be boiling. He jumped up and walked away toward the entrance hall and the door leading to the cellar. This couldn’t be right, something had to be going on. ‘ _Hm… maybe they are already closer than you thought? Doesn’t seem very honest and loving to do this. Maybe it was wrong to be this nice to them.’_

With the voice showing him new ideas, he approached the inconspicuous door. Touching the handle, he unsurprisingly found the door locked shut and warded. That didn’t exactly scream ‘ _I trust you, Harry.’_

He didn’t understand any of his mates’ actions anymore. What were they doing? First, Tom told him he cared for him and pried far too much. Then, he was told he did not hide important things. And now, this! This did not look like something unimportant. This cellar was warded off better than Gringotts!

Not to him, though. Scrunching up his nose in contempt, he summoned his wand and easily ripped the multi-layered, carefully constructed wards apart. ‘ _Uuuh… let’s see what they hid, hm?’_ The voice cooed in something akin to malicious joy, eating his anxiety with great pleasure. When he touched the door again to open it, he was warned ‘ _Maybe you should be careful, though… Could be dangerous for you.’_ Losing his rashness for the moment, Harry slowly opened the door and cast some spells to analyze the vicinity. They told him there were some spells to alarm someone of his presence and - horrified - he noticed there were charms against undead creatures put there, too. So, truly, this cellar was only warded against _him_. Luckily, he was adept enough to dismantle those, too.

Once he was sure there were no more traps or anything comparable, he entered the room. As such, the cellar did not seem very special. Everything was made of stone and seemed relatively ancient. The air was cold but that was due to Harry. There wasn’t much to see at first until he rounded a corner. Then he saw a miniature library, some tables overloaded with paper and quills, half a potions’ lab, and some difficult-looking chalk drawings on the floor, which looked like they were used to do some grand magic. ‘ _Or to catch someone… Interesting, right?’_

The Master of Death froze, feeling betrayed. This looked like someone had worked on this for quite some time and was trying to achieve something with it. Shaking of his shock, he walked up to one of the bookcases silently, reading the titles of the books. They reached from ‘ _Necromancy 101’_ to ‘ _Tales of the Darkest Creatures’_ and ‘ _The Deathly Hollows - The Reality’._

‘ _Perhaps you should feel honored,’_ the voice mocked him ‘ _So much research, all for you._ On _you.’_ Feeling deeply sickened, the Master of Death wandered over to the tables. ‘ _On you, the monster…’_ He recognized mainly Tom’s handwriting right away, alongside some comments by his other mate. Reading through some of the notes, all seemed to be research on the Master of Death and his Hallows, as well:

 

 

> _‘Abilities include:_
> 
>   * __Apparition and summoning with no regard to wards and magical laws of materialization__
> 

>   * _Legilimency without eye-contact_
> 

>   * _Seeing (?) souls_
> 

>   * _‘Feeling’ life and happiness_
> 

>   * _Surviving without any food, water, or comparable substances_
> 

>   * _Reattaching alive Horcruxes to new objects (?)_
> 

>   * _Storing objects and Horcruxes in Purgatory_
> 

>   * _Reattaching bonds (?)_
> 

>   * **_Freezing stuff_**
> 

> 
>  
> 
> _Not abilities:_
> 
>   * __Pulling souls out of the_ afterlife _/_ ** _Limbo_**_
> 

>   * _Pulling Horcruxes out of the_ _afterlife_ **_Limbo_** _/Repairing Horcruxes_
> 

>   * _Being in full control of his magic_
> 

>   * _Working with souls (?)’_
> 

> 
>  
> 
> ‘ _New behavior:_
> 
>   * __Fixated on souls__
> 

>   * _Extremely protective/jealous_ ** _→ wants to mark people_**
> 

>   * _Aggressive towards friends/mates_
> 

>   * _Mood changes quickly_
> 

>   * _Depression, unresponsiveness, apathy_
> 

>   * _Insecure about being loved_
> 

>   * _Seems to talk to himself within his mind (?)’_
> 

> 
>  
> 
> _‘The Death Chamber:_
> 
> _Includes a portal used by the Ministry to study Death. The Ministry has been built around the portal, indicating it’s older than 300 years. The portal consists of a thin veil; some individuals seem to hear voices coming from ‘the other side’. If people are pushed through, they vanish (_ **_Presumably dead_ ** _).’_
> 
>  
> 
> ‘ _Issues:_
> 
>   * __Peverell Brothers lived prior to 1200, portal might only be from 1700; not connected?__
> 

>   * _Harry was killed as the Master of Death; the Elder Wand did not change its owner_ ** _→ perhaps the MoD has to die once to be complete (?)_**
> 

>   * _The bonds broke because of his first death, but not on the second one; pseudo-death?_
> 

>   * _Why does Death want to merge with his master?_
> 

>   * _If Death can cheat his master, why can’t he simply kill him? (Why couldn’t he kill the Peverells?)’_
> 

> 
>  
> 
>  

Harry nervously swallowed, as he saw all these notes on himself. He felt like a test subject, waiting to be dissected. After going through more pieces of paper - he wanted to find an explanation for the chalk summoning circles on the ground - he soon wished he had never gone into the cellar.

 

 

 

> _‘...Sibling murders:_
> 
>   * __No trace of magic__
> 

>   * _No wards tipped off_
> 

>   * _No blood or other injuries_
> 

>   * _Rookwood killed inside the Ministry, despite wards and security personnel nearby_
> 

>   * _Werewolves killed; pack unable to scent murderer_
> 

>   * _Victims ‘drop dead’ with no further indicator_
> 

>   * **_Area feels weird like Dementor was around_**
> 

> 
>  
> 
> _Suspects:_
> 
> _Death_
> 
>   * __Meets all criteria__
> 

>   * _If merged with Harry: Can parts of him leave Harry?_
> 

>   * _If not merged with Harry: Why doesn’t Harry tell him to stop? Does Harry know?_
> 

> 
>  
> 
> _Harry_
> 
>   * __Meets all criteria__
> 

>   * _If merged with Death: Is he forced to do it?_
> 

>   * _If not merged with Death: Why does he order Death to do this?_
> 

> 
>  
> 
> **_Other wizards:_ **
> 
>   * **_**_Can’t pull this off_**_**
> 

> 
>  
> 
>   _→_ **_He has to know/order him to if not merged. Otherwise, the whole_ ** **_Master_ ** **_of Death stuff makes no sense._**
> 
> **_Conclusion: Either, Harry is being brainwashed to do it or Death is still able to leave him on occasions._ ** _Or he is doing it.’_
> 
>  

His mates thought he was killing his siblings and the werewolves. Feeling sickened and betrayed to the core, he backed away from the research, putting physical distance between it and himself. It was revolting, vile, wrong. Harry knew for a fact, he was merged with Death. He was sure of it. So this left only very few options for his mates to act on. ‘ _But what will the act be, hm?’_

All these past three weeks, his lovers had fooled him. No wonder they had been weird. No wonder Tom had had an increase in nightmares. No wonder he went to Barty for comfort. They had done this behind his back like he was their enemy. Were they his enemy now?

‘ _I told you to be less naive,’_ the mind-voice scolded him like a little, dumb child. For all the former human knew, he indeed was. ‘ _You should look at the circles.’_ Not wanting to risk not listening to it again, he spun around and studied the chalk drawings. This was something for people with a true mastery of magic, like Tom or Dumbledore, perhaps Barty on a good day. No normal wizard without a higher education could pull these off with ease. And they must have put this together fairly quickly; were they this afraid of him?

Trying to make sense of the symbols despite his hazy, muddied mind, he crept around the circle - careful not to step into it. He barely knew any of them and the thing did not seem to be finished since it emitted little to no magic. What he could gather, however, was that this was used to trap somebody in it. Or _something_. It did not help that there was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows alongside other drawings, too. This was for Harry. Scared, he stiffened again. His lovers wanted to imprison him here like an animal, an ancient evil.

‘ _Not a big surprise if they’re scared of you. What else would they do? They can’t kill you, so they try to create a prison for you, which you can’t escape.’_ His helpful companion solidified his worst fears, making his dead heart break. ‘ _That’s what happens when people give up on you, are fed up with your antics. They lock you away like poor Barty. Hoping the isolation will break you and make you docile. Hm… that’s one way to become the Master of Death. Then again, Barty is always very innovative. Didn’t you ever wonder, how being tortured by an expert would feel?’_

“B-But- they said they loved me…” he helplessly whispered to himself, staring at nothing in particular anymore. He felt like there was no more space in his mind for himself, the other being pushing him out, replacing his thoughts and guiding him toward greatness.

‘ _Do they?’_ He could almost hear it laugh within his mind before the voice started to pity him ‘ _You should have listened to your friends and your godparents. You’re a body to fuck and weapon to use.’_

He didn’t want to be used. He had never wanted that. Harry did not know, what to do anymore.

‘ _Go home. You know there is someone, who loves you. And there are the souls of the dead - your parents, Dumbledore… they love you, too.’_

But he did not want that. “I- I’m not going to roll over and give up!” He wanted _revenge_ . He wanted his mates to face him. He could always go _home_ , but he’d not let those two live on and team up against him, while his heart broke into a million pieces. If he went, they went with him. In Purgatory, they couldn’t _not_ love him. They couldn’t run away or hurt him. They couldn’t abandon him. He’d imprison them with him, let them taste their own medicine.

‘ _Why bother…?’_ For once, the voice seemed uncertain and worried, not provocative.

“I can’t be alone there. And even if they don’t love me, I love _them_. They will like Purgatory, they simply don’t know it yet. That will solve so many problems…” he ignored its call for apathy. Harry was done with giving in, submitting. The rage and fire within him begged to be extinguished by the coldness of the afterlife, which he wanted to share with his lovers.

Again, it told him ‘ _It’s too risky.’_

“Why would it be?”

No answer came, which had him huff in annoyance.

“Fine, then leave me, too, you dick!” He mildly snapped, as he seemingly talked to himself. Whatever this voice was, it would die, too. He’d take it with him and the others.  He had to thank it for its service, after all! Having enough of this anyway, he took out his wand and apparated straight into the Ministry’s entrance hall, a hundred living beings around him. For a second, he was tempted to end their miserable lives, too, but he decided to let them play a while longer. He wanted to make this special, just for his mates.

Now, he only needed to find his first mate and, hopefully, the second one would be with him. Killing them both at once would spare one of them so much pain, after all. His intuition was telling him to go home, but he ignored it. Instead, he followed the feeling of his bonds. Quickly, he found a lead to follow, making him walk into the direction. Upon his wild, jumpy look, the first wizards and witches started to worriedly leave the vicinity of him. When they noticed the floor freezing up, a few started to produce high pitched noises, like scared birds, and their movements became quicker. Perhaps they thought Dementors were coming. Little did they know, he was the father of all Dementors and would _indeed_ steal a soul, ideally two, today.

He felt like a bloodhound, sniffing out his doomed lover as he went deeper into the Ministry. No one seemed to dare attack him, too perplexed upon his sight. He went through familiar passages and walked past an endless number of prophecies in a dimly lit room. Petty, with a flick of his wrist, he let the shelves in the room collapse and break all of the damned objects. He’d not allow anyone to trick fate as he had - it only brought trouble. It wasn’t natural.

With the sound of a million glass spheres breaking and blue dust shimmering behind him, he magicked the door to the Chamber of Death open, before jumping down into it. It seemed to be his lucky day because, truly, both of his mates had gathered around the stone portal. They sat on the floor, parchment laid about, and books with difficult drawings were positioned next to them for reference.

Surely, they had been working on those prior, but now they were staring up at him in horror, as dust flew into the room alongside him. He thought they deserved to feel that way. They were in the wrong, after all.

While Tom breathed a terrified “H-Harry,” Barty had already jumped up and trained a wand on the undead one, positioning himself between him and his master. The latter seemed completely frozen solid, unable to decide on a course of action.

“Don’t come closer!” The older Death Eater barked at him, even able to suppress his tick to seem more threatening. “What are you-”

“-Doing here? I could ask _you_ the fucking same! Or, even better, I could ask you what that fucking cellar is all about!” He wanted to play with his prey like a cat. That was only befitting for the two, he thought. Also, he had died the same way that first time - they shouldn’t be better of than him.

Both of them had a mixture of anger and fear written on their faces. Riddle meanwhile slowly got up but did not draw his wand as Barty had. He tried to reason with his husband in vain “Harry, whatever you found- Please, let us explain-”

“-Please, do! Because I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt. Unlike you two, I don’t suspect my loved ones of murdering my family immediately!” He ironically spat at them. When he felt some people approaching the Death Chamber - probably Aurors to imprison him - he swished his wand through the air once, closing the only two doors leading to the chamber with a loud bang and raising some rather strong wards. He saw Barty swallow at that nervously. Wasn’t he intelligent enough to know there was no escaping him anyway? When his mates reacted too slowly for him, he barked “Speak or die!” Tom knew him well enough to know his threat was genuine, staring at him in anxiety. The Master of Death saw him being afraid of dying and losing his husband, ironically. ‘ _Should have thought about that before betraying me.’_

The orphan regarded Barty pleadingly, who then started to elaborate “Brother, we are only trying to help you. All of this, we’re doing it for you! We told you we’d research about this whole issue-”

“ _With me_! Not without my knowledge and behind my back!” He hissed at him and the floor became frosty. There was no reason to withhold the research from him if they meant well.

“We had our reasons, Harry, please,” Bartemius did his best to calm him down, while also protecting the Dark Lord. Tom looked entirely broken and exhausted, not in any state to fight. Not, that he would ever be capable of raising his wand against his equal either way. “We couldn’t trust you anymore! You were changing; becoming moody, clingy, aggressive and all that stuff. And we didn’t know, how far Death’s grip on you went - we still bloody don’t! So we researched behind your back, just in case he was controlling you. And then we linked you to the murders-”

“Unjustified! I never touched one of them. How dare you accuse me of something like that! The Death Eaters are the only family, I have- Why would I kill them? How would I kill them? _When_? I was always with you or in school- I couldn’t have done it!” He pointed out an obvious flaw to them. They would have noticed him missing! Also, the murders had started before he had merged!

Annoyed to be interrupted, Crouch Jr declared with anger flaring up “Would you let me finish? Well, we didn’t link you - Harry - to the murders as such! We linked Death to it, but that includes you for Merlin’s sake! He killed them!”

That was ridiculous. ‘ _You know, he’d never. Why would he kill them? They only want to distract you from the real issue, here. They want to own and use you,’_ his voice returned and agreed to his assumption. “Why would he?” He provocatively called at that as he observed his primary mate inching toward Barty little by little, simply for the illusion of security.

“Isn’t it obvious? To drive us apart! First, some guy tries to kill you on Yule, so Death can appear there and meet Tom to threaten him in person. Then, every few weeks, another person dies, making us nervous and suspicious. He _wanted_ us to think it’s you! And he wanted us to stop being with you, so he could have you for himself!” His middle-aged boyfriend theorized, but he did not listen. Harry thought the murders were entirely unrelated to him and Death.

He also said so to the others “You two are the only ones driving us apart! You want to own me, as Death, so you can use me for one of your schemes! You want to be the new Master of Death with the added bonus of having a body to fuck! You don’t love me-”

Finally saying something, too, Tom cried out “I never wanted to have the Hallows for myself- You offered them to me! Harry, please, you can’t think this is how we feel-”

“You didn’t want them, because you’re fucking scared of Death! But in me being Death, you hope I’ll be docile and easy to care for! You let me be _infested_ , so you could remotely control me!” Harry felt like crying but held his tears back. He’d not give them the satisfaction of making him cry. He’d make _them_ cry. “You even designed a bloody prison for me in the basement!”

“Sunshine, please, no! None of this is true- If we had wanted that, why would we even be here?”

“Well, how should I know, huh?” He sarcastically threw at him. He felt his will to listen to their lies fade with each moment, as he twirled the Elder Wand around in his fingers. This duel would be lost by Barty.

The latter went on to defend himself, having no other choice, “The prison was only for the worst-case scenario. This here is plan A! We’re researching ways to separate you from Death. Harry, the merge _can’t_ be complete, yet. You’d have all his powers, otherwise. And why would he want to merge fully? He only wants to possess you and brainwash you. You’re hearing his voice, too, aren’t you? Tom heard you talking to someone! Harry, he’s influencing you!”

‘ _You know it’s not his voice. You two are one, how could it be his? They drove you into insanity, that’s all,’_ the voice begged to differ and Harry did, too. He trusted this voice; so far, it had told him more truth than his mates. “I am merged! You’re trying to drive _us_ apart- He actually loves me for a change!”

His husband pleaded him “Love, this isn’t you! You know that’s not true! I love you-”

“You _don’t_. If you did, you’d not hurt me like this!” This was it, he had heard enough of this. A little madly, he declared “Now, who wants to go first? Tom, perhaps? After all, it’ll take the longest with you!”

Barty, his voice barely more than a growl, wanted to be told, “First for what-”

“ _Death_ . That’ll solve all the problems! We can all stay in Purgatory together for all eternity. You can’t run away from me, you can’t hurt yourselves, you can’t reject my love, or use me for your own gains anymore. Oh, and Tom won’t be so lonely when he’s shattered into seven pieces! And you don’t have to worry about me killing the siblings, because we’re all dead! And isn’t it _poetic_ to die in the Death Chamber at the hands of Death. This is where we broke fate and it’s where we correct our mistakes, too.” He called with a grin, quite happy to elicit more fear in the two.

“You’re insane-”

“Perfect, clean, painless, and sacred death! Now, let’s see- Oh! The Horcruxes, we need the Horcruxes! Now, that’ll be a problem. I can only kill myself once Barty is dead. Hm… but let’s take care of the other four for now.” Holding his left hand up for a summon, he chuckled “You know, so we can all enjoy it together. As a family!”

His husband had long since started to cry, begging him “No! Please, Harry-” It seemed like he did not take him seriously, yet. Perhaps he thought this was a joke? There was no stopping this. He had brought it upon himself. But, today, they’d solve all of these little, accumulated issues.

Flicking his wrist, he summoned the first object “One, the Ravenclaw Diadem! A truly nice Christmas gift!” Unceremoniously, he let it fall to the ground with an awful, metallic clink. “Two, the Slytherin Locket! Sorry, but I’ll take my gift back.” That, too, fell to the ground, just like Tom fell on his knees, not able to take any more of it.

“Harry, s-stop-”

“Stop? No, I think not, master. Now, hm… Oh! Three! Hufflepuff’s Cup! Barty, I bet you like this one!” With a grin, he let it crash onto the ground, also, while Barty simply stared at him and his bond-mate cried behind him. “Now… the last one for now! Four, _Nagini_!” The snake immediately found herself on the floor, hissing in confusion as she instinctively tried to wrap around the other Horcruxes. “Hm… it’s like a family gathering, huh? It’s so nice to be together! But we still need something to kill us all. Master, your choice! Basilisk’s venom, Killing Curse or Fiendfyre, what will it be? I think Fiendfyre is my favorite; that way we can all die together!”

Tom did not answer and simply shook his head, silently pleading him to stop it.

Taking a few steps closer, Harry cooed “Come on, master! I’m even giving you a choice on how to die! You don’t have to be afraid. You won’t know up from down, anyway! You won’t even be conscious when I’m done with you. So, what is there to be scared about?” Hissing, he chuckled “For a mass-murderer, it’s pretty sad how afraid you are of me.”  Licking his lips, he hummed “I can also give you a dementor’s kiss. That kills you and all those disgusting things straight away.”

He wanted to step closer to animate the other, but Barty apparently had other intentions “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” He called like a fool and Harry unimpressedly let the curse hit him full force. Sadly, the Horcrux within him lived on since he couldn’t let his body die just yet. How inconvenient.

“Really, brother? Avada Kedavra on me? You can’t kill me,” he slyly pointed out to his boyfriend, who was shaking and clutching at his wand. He did not seem to believe he had done that himself. “I know I told you to sacrifice yourself for Tom, but it’s redundant now. Are you that eager to die? Well, then… Let me give you that honor, brother! You so love dueling me, after all.” Without a second’s warning, he threw _Sectumsempra_ at his husband, so Barty would have to jump in front of him to save his hide. To Death incarnate’s amusement, he actually did sacrifice himself and received a pretty large cut on his side, making him shout in pain. Barty even tried to force a Cruciatus on him, but something nullified it. ‘ _Perhaps this is a good idea, after all. You’re doing well.’_ Mood lightened by the praise, he wanted to make the voice even prouder of him.

Tom must have seen his intention, as he tried once again to make him stop “Harry, don’t!”

But he chose to ignore him and fired a Killing Curse Barty’s way, ending their little game, which proved to be not as interesting as he had thought. Unsurprisingly, the man couldn’t dodge in time because of his wound. Also, had he dodged, it would have hit Tom. So, without much fuss, his body sank to the floor and Harry smiled to himself - he had done the right thing. ‘ _He’ll thank you in Limbo. Now take the other out, too.’_

 

Or had he? Upon seeing the man he had loved, _did_ love, fall to the floor- Everything suddenly became muffled to him. He couldn’t fully process Riddle’s screams, neither the voice’s demands nor the colors of the world around him. He felt like a tv, which’s antenna had been messed with by an idiotic child. No, the antenna had been entirely broken apart, one half of it missing now. And the child was standing within his mind, holding up the piece of metal with a big, fat grin on its face.

He felt a deep connection snapping in half and he suddenly wished his spine would snap just like that, too, kill him already.

What had he done?

Why had he done this?

“...Barty?” He whispered, not comprehending the situation, yet. Crouch did not respond, he laid face-first on the dry, stone ground. Why didn’t he respond? Red started to paint the floor beneath him rapidly, warming the cold surface only to freeze up because of Harry’s denial.

Slowly, he took a step toward his platonic mate, wishing Tom would kill him now. But he didn’t even see the black-haired man, he could only see his white fox tainted with red paint. Next to him, he kneeled down in front of the other, hoping for him to jump up and press their foreheads together, tell him to not be sad. Harry wasn’t sad, he was just nothing. With grey, emotionless eyes, he regarded red slowly inching toward his shoes, not reacting as it touched them. Instead, he touched the other man’s soft, brown hair. It was oily, like so often. Magick stuck to him, but it wasn’t Barty’s. It was far viler than his.

He watched his own hand, which seemed to be red, as well. Was he an idiot child, too, to paint a white fox with red paint? Out of boredom, because the tv was on a shitty channel? He touched his mate again, trying to chase after the life flowing out of him freely. The soul was long since gone, in his broken home. Apathetically, he watched tears drop onto the other. Slowly, a sense of realization settled in him.  

He had killed his mate.

He had killed Barty.

He wanted to rip that vile being out of himself, but he did not know, which one disgusted him more. Himself or Death? He wanted to cease existing at the sight of his lover, bleeding out unnecessarily because he was already dead. He had killed him. He had wanted to kill Tom, too.

He gripped at the other’s brown waistcoat, which began turning red around the edges, too. Shaking the other slightly, he tried to make him wake up again. Harry had slept for long, too, so this should be no problem, right? Barty was just a heavy sleeper. He’d soon call him his _sunshine_ again. He’d soon tell him, how every Death Eater faced hardships in their lives and how this made them normal humans. He’d soon suggest having a cuddle-puddle together and stuffing themselves with Winky’s treats. Wouldn’t he?

Sobbing, he begged the other to stop the act “W-Wake up!” Harry couldn’t take the sight, but he couldn’t abandon Barty, either. After a while, his throat started to hurt - had he screamed? Barty would have something wicked to say about that. But he kept it to himself, not making a sound.

He had no idea, how much time passed like this. But, at some point, a set of warm arms embraced his waist from behind and a chest rested against him, sobbing, too.

“...Make him c-come back…” Tom tightened his grip on his husband, his voice dry and strained, too. But the Master of Death lacked any and all kind of magical knowledge. He felt like a Muggle or Squib, entirely empty. He’d not even be able to cast a _Lumos_ , he felt certain. He never wanted to cast anything again. The orphan balled his fists and hit his back with one of them weakly, demanding “Do something-”

“I-I…” He lacked the words to describe, what he felt. Instead, he simply clutched onto Barty’s clothes more in case he faded away. ‘ _Why are you crying? You did this.’_ They remained in this position for a while, the Gryffindor trying to piece everything together.

His lover started to cry more heavily upon his requests being ignored repeatedly, but after what felt like an eternity he still got through to him “We have to e-end this.” Guiding his husband to turn toward him, the older one rasped “We can separate you- Y-You just have to step through t-the portal.” After a little while, his voice broke “I-In theory…”

Harry couldn’t understand, what his husband meant. But the voice did ‘ _No- No! You won’t go through there, it will permanently kill you! Don’t listen to him!’_ It told him quite desperately and he felt a foreign force trying to conquer his body. Helpless, the apprentice held onto his mate’s black coat “A-A voice…. It’s telling me not to.” He did not understand, what he should not do, but he knew his mate to be intelligent and to sort it out for him.

Trying to read his grey, dull eyes, Tom whispered as he tried to keep his crying down to speak normally “Don’t l-listen to it. It’s Death…. What w-we told you was true.”

‘ _I am you! If you kill me, you kill yourself!’_

“Harry, you- you have to resurrect Barty a-and go through the veil. It’s the o-only choice-” Tom pleaded him again.

‘ _He doesn’t even care for you- I care for you! Haven’t I done well? Haven’t I done everything in my power to make you happy?’_

“-We haven’t found a-another. I just- We don’t know, if- I-if you’ll be able to come back,” his mate embraced him and Harry hated himself for staining his tidy mate red, too.

‘ _Master! Master, don’t listen to him! I, well, lied-  But I only meant well! I only ever tried to care for you, but you wouldn’t come home and I had to find ways and I- I didn’t know how-’_

Pressing his warm body impossibly close, Tom begged him “Please, y-you have to come back. You- just _Harry_.” Mindlessly the Gryffindor wrapped his arms around his broken mess of a husband, “Don’t leave m-me alone.”

‘ _Don’t leave_ me _alone, master! He’s doomed anyway, I live forever! I love you, please-’_

‘ _Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!’_ Harry finally snapped within his mind, making his real mate flinch in panic and try to withdraw. “N-Not you, Tom. Death-” Luckily, his husband got the message and carefully came closer again. Harry felt his mind fighting with the parasite, reclaiming a weak dominance and clarity. ‘ _You have no bloody right to make any demands. You fucking destroyed my life! You’re my servant, nothing more- and I don’t have to like you or treat you well. Now, resurrect Barty. Completely. That is an order.’_ By the time he ended his tirade, he was positively shaking with rage. Tom hugged him close and touched him, not quite there.

‘ _But- We are halfway merged! I can’t-”_

_‘You bloody killed six Death Eaters, stop lying to me. You can!’_  

‘ _Don’t make me go- Please!’_

_‘Every one of my demands is an order, so stop lying, shut up, and resurrect him.’_ Red eyes observed him in worry and awe, before wiping away some of his tears automatically. Harry concluded his mate was in some state of shock. Him being this calm about one-third of their triangle dying should not leave him this calm after a few minutes.

From the portal, Harry could see a soul, a little ball of light, floating toward their general direction. ‘ _I don’t like doing this, master…’_

‘ _Shut up.’_ He threw at Death again and watched on in amazement, as the soul reentered Barty’s body with ease.

Timidly, Death still told him ‘ _Healing him takes some time if you want him to be human…’_

_‘Do I have to go through the portal to un-merge us fully? I don’t want_ any _trace of you in me. I want to be my old, pre-death self,’_ he requested, while simultaneously comforting his husband in his arms. Perhaps he himself was in shock, too. He was automatically doing and saying things, but could not attribute thoughts and feelings to them. He felt like a robot, but at least he was a functioning, virus-free robot.

‘ _Yes, you have to. I can only make stuff right again if I have your soul_ and _body in my realm…  Do I really have to, master? This- this will break all ties between us! Y-You’ll only have the title and Hallows... Don’t you want my powers? My-’_

_‘I want none of your fucking powers, no. Do I look happy to you with them?’_ That question remained unanswered, but that in itself was confirmation enough. ‘ _Can you temporarily reattach the Horcrux in me to something, so Tom won’t be that hurt?’_ When he got a positive answer, he ordered ‘ _Then do. Put it in Snow for now.’_ Staring at his mate in his arms, he told him “Death said I will come back. A-And Barty will need some time to fully heal. Also, I’m putting your Horcrux in Snow for now.”

“O-Okay,” Tom told him, but he seemed positively out of it. He wasn’t someone to cope well with emotional stress as was; he did not think losing two loved ones on one day would let him recover very soon. This was hard on Harry - well, would be, once it truly settled - he couldn’t imagine the stress he had put on his already mentally unstable mate. There was another problem. If he left this realm, his marriage bond would break and, for the time being, left Tom a Squib.

Trying to clear his head a little, Harry advised “You should go to the Burrow. Molly and the others will care for you.” He hoped his mate would realize his predicament soon enough, without freaking out.

Tom nodded steadily, but mindlessly.

Thinking that was best on instinct, he kissed him once but met little participation. “I’ll come back. And Barty will be fine, too. And you, also. Go now, I’ll put the Horcruxes in our vault and send Snow and Nagini to the Burrow. You take Barty,” he embraced him more closely, only to notice himself shaking, too. He did not want to be alone with Death. Again, his husband nodded, before slowly letting go of him. Harry waited for him to take Barty’s arm and nod at him slightly. He’d rather know if his husband splinched himself or not, before killing himself. When he found no extremities left behind, he used his superior, vile powers for the last time to send all the stuff after him or to Gringotts.

The Master of Death struggled up, trying to ignore the cold liquid sticking to his hands and trousers. Walking up to the stone portal, he again heard voices “ _Come home! Come-”_ That did not reassure him. But, nevertheless, what alternative was there? He hoped this was the new start they had fought so hard for.

* * *

Oh god, how had he ended up here? Tom still struggled to piece the last few hours together and combine them into something, which could be called a horrible day. And now he sat on the edge of a transfigured, ancient bed with a corpse ‘sleeping’ in one half of it. When he had mated Harry, he had not thought this would be the end result of it. That 17-year-old would be the death of him.

Everything just… hurt. He couldn’t name one thing, which did not. Half of his magic had been ripped out of him _again_ and his bond had been broken. At least this time he had the small shimmer of hope his husband would be coming back. Looking at Bartemius hurt, too. He still could not accept, what Harry had done to him. It _couldn’t_ be real.

Riddle had not thought his former apprentice would go this far. Of course, this had been somewhat planned for. All of this had been more or less thought through. At least, he liked to tell himself that.

When Harry had started to change his behavior before the summer break, he and Barty had already started to casually research the whole Tale Of The Three Brothers. But it had not been done with too much vigor. After all, Harry had been seemingly fine with his merge. When they had arrived at the Manor, however, and their little serpent had started to become fairly odd, it had become far more in-depth. But with Barty pointing out more and more inconsistencies of the merging to him, it had become a full-fledged, secret operation.

Secrecy, of course, had been a grand problem with Harry freely plunging into their minds, when he wanted to. Luckily, Tom had managed to overcome his distaste for binding himself to others - he had accepted a Fidelius Charm with Barty as the Secret Keeper. He had been chosen as such because Harry usually didn’t invade him too deeply. A good choice, in the end. But, obviously, not everything had worked out. Of course, the cellar had not been sufficiently warded - he should have known better. Casting a glance at Nagini, who was curled up around Snow in shame, he decided to not give her any more treats for now. She had lost that privilege for betraying him. Damned animal.

He didn’t know, whether he should be thankful for Crouch’s sacrifice. In the end, it had snapped Harry out of his brainwashing. But he shouldn’t have. The original plan had been to trap Harry and force him through the veil - but would that have been better? The Dark Lord couldn’t decide.

Normally, he’d not have questioned this. His Death Eaters were supposed to be loyal like this - even though none of them were. But Bartemius was… more. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t just a servant. This left him troubled; was Barty only doing this to gain his favor? Or was this something like ‘love’?

Harry would surely tell him now, he loved that moronic runt, too. But he didn’t- at least not, like he loved Harry. He did not think he could adore anyone in that way. Still… Tom turned to his side to look at the other in sorrow, not enjoying his condition, either. These past weeks, he _had_ grown quite a bit closer to him. More often than not, he had been embraced and comforted by him at their secret gatherings. It had been simply too much for the Slytherin. The sleep-deprivation, his husband’s odd behavior, and - later - the knowledge he might have to kill him had driven him to the brink of collapsing. Somehow, Bartemius had been stronger in that regard. Weird, because he had been quite the clingy cry-baby in his younger years. Tom smiled to himself mildly, but it quickly faded again. The dark mage still didn’t feel entirely well. Really, he just wanted to sleep. But it was too bright outside and he _knew_ he’d have night-terrors. Perhaps he should simply wait till he passed out from exhaustion, like in old times. Or he could plunder this half-rotten house for alcohol, but he did not want to interact with _them_ too much. He had been lucky those children had been outside to play or whatever, only the parents being there. He had to admit, they were fairly decent purebloods. Even if they were poor.

Already, he felt frustration seep into him and anxiety upon the thought, he might have to rely on these strangers. He was virtually defenseless without his magic -  at least Barty could have punched any aggressors. He prayed either or both of them would be fully there within one week. He couldn’t even call in meetings like this! His servants would deem him dead or worse within two weeks…

Not knowing, what to do - he didn’t even have a bloody book - he reluctantly climbed onto the bed fully and leaned against the headboard. Somehow, he _really_ wanted to shift closer to the alcoholic, reckless idiot next to him. But he wasn’t even breathing and barely had room-temperature. That always annoyed him with his husband, too, but his love for him overruled that. It did not help that the younger one wasn’t wearing much besides a pair of boxers; too much blood had stuck to him. And now not even a blanket covered him - was he cold? Pressing his lips together, he questioned his own sanity as he got off the bed again pulled the blanket away from under him. Luckily, he had only laid half on top of it. Swiftly, he placed it, where it belonged: On top of the human, not under him. Well, now he at least felt somewhat useful and more comfortable to sit on the bed next to him. It wasn’t like he had never seen the other naked or as if he didn’t look ‘attractive’, of course, but… It still irritated him. Nevertheless, he wriggled closer somewhat and patted through thin, brown hair. He noted distastefully, how oily it was. He had hated this in the past, too. But, in contrast to his dear husband, Barty had never accepted his _pleas_ for cleanliness. Selfish runt.

After some time of mindlessly stroking through soft hair and - secretly - enjoying the familiar scent Barty emitted, someone knocked at the door. He seriously debated pretending to sleep, then again, they might try funny stuff if they assumed him vulnerable. So he mustered up his pseudo-nonchalant personality and told the person to enter after he removed himself from his servant.

Of course, it had to be that awful witch. With a friendly grin - friendly smirks made him suspicious on default - she sympathetically cooed at him “Is everything alright, sweetheart? Do you need anything?”

He did not like being called that all the time. Neutrally, he hummed “I’m as fine as I can be after this day, thank you. And, no, I don’t need anything.” He had told them about his husband having died and his servant being more or less dead, too. He attributed that to his lingering shock. In a normal state of mind, he’d never have told them.

Despite his words, Molly looked at him as if he were a small, helpless kitten in need of a mother - had Harry told them he was an orphan? He’d kill that idiot one day. “Are you sure? I can only imagine this being kind of tough. I know it’s temporary, but… Harry is such a sweet boy. Oh, I wish life were a little easier on him sometimes.” She rambled on for a while, which was honestly quite pleasant. He knew why his husband saw her as a mother-figure. Should he feel this way with 70-odd years? After some time, she proposed “Do you want to eat something? Or have the newspaper? A book? Surely you don’t enjoy sitting here with nothing to do.” Although she knowingly regarded Crouch’s blanketed state, before smiling at him again. He was glad he could not read her mind anymore.

Reluctantly, he agreed “Well, something with _a lot_ of alcohol would be welcomed. A book, too, perhaps…” He did not want to see the newspaper. He’d rather not know, how many people had seen Harry. Obliviating them all was no use anyway.

She had the guts to scold him “It’s not healthy to drink your sorrows away, not your nightmares, either.” Right, she knew of that. With a chill running down his spine, he concluded they _all_ knew. All of those gingers.

“It might not be healthy, but I have very few, other choices. That is if you don’t have a few spare bottles of Dreamless Sleep flying around somewhere and if you don’t mind me becoming addicted to it under your care. My husband would lynch me if I did, I’m afraid,” the Slytherin had to sigh. Harry really was an overprotective mother-hen at times. Trying to not let his mood dropping show, he charismatically smiled at her. He missed his husband. Indeed, he liked to be cared for, sometimes coddled. Especially after a day like this, letting go of his power felt relaxing.

She seemed to see right through him as she said “I’ll see what I can find, dear. Do you want to send an owl to someone perhaps, too?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that many friends and most of my relatives are either dead or my insufferable servants, So, no, but thank you,” he politely replied, which had her nod like she was truly, deeply worried for his sake. She then left him for a while, before returning with some weird wizard-beverage and several, cheap romance and other novels, which only housewives in their 60s would read. Nevertheless, he thanked her. Opening the beverage - which he couldn’t identify but at least it smelled like it would knock him out if he chugged it quickly enough - he leaned against the headboard with his legs beneath the blanket. Were his husband there, he’d mock him for his Muggle-nostalgia again. But he couldn’t help it when he had spent his youth in the vicinity of Muggles. Right now, he truly wished for some vodka - anything, really, which he was able to recognize and which felt familiar.

After employing a trick to down the whole bottle as fast as possible - which he might have shown young Barty a bit too early in his life if he truly thought about his play in his alcoholism - he laid down next to him, turning to face the _unconscious_ , not dead, body. Biting his lip like was some teen - he hated himself for it - he inched closer to the luke-warm body and laid an arm on top of Barty for comfort, careful to avoid the sensitive areas, where he had been cut open. By his own husband. Tom balled his hands, unwilling to think about this more deeply and have himself cry again. It was bad enough to cry in front of the two, it was worse to cry all alone. He knew this sort of thing was not exactly productive, but he suppressed everything, nevertheless. He couldn’t sort through that mess all on his own, he knew that much after so many years of his life. He needed someone to help him find his way through, to comfort him if it became too much. Despite his age, he felt more in tune with his younger body. He had had these issues as a young adult, too, and had kept them. He hoped his mate could solve them for him, but he also knew Harry was no demi-god. Neither was Bartemius. But, especially the latter emitted a feeling of _I-Have-My-Shit-Together-More-Than-You_ . Barty was easy. He was human, mortal, an above-average wizard, and had his mundane drinking-issue. Sometimes, he was a bit aggressive _among other things_ . But, otherwise, he was so painfully _normal_ that it was refreshing again. For a dark wizard, that was.

In the rare privacy of his mind, Tom wished for Barty to dote over him as he did with Harry. The Slytherin had watched his little pep-talks, anecdotes, that weird ‘let’s push our heads together’ and their Dark mark abuse with quiet fascination one too many times. He, too, wanted to be told some pseudo-wise anecdotes and have that level of intimacy with the other.

But everything he received from Barty was affection, which ultimately had the goal of rolling around with him in bed. It always was the same. _Oh, how often do I have to console you, so you let me fuck you? How often do I need to kiss your cheek unbidden, until I can kiss you for real? How often do I have to care for you, my Lord, until I get the reward?_

Tom didn’t want that. He did not want to be lulled into security until he let the other have some fun with his body, only to be discarded again and for Barty to focus solely on Harry. Regarding the man in front of his face, he did not think it would ever become different. _If_ he loved Barty, that level of love was not being returned, anyway.

Drinking had not been a wise decision.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Barty :(
> 
> But there will be more because I simply need a healthy mixture of drama and fluff in my life!


	10. Unconventional Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom waits for everyone to come back, ignoring his issues as best as he can.

**Chapter 10**

**Unconventional Deals**

* * *

* * *

 

He was still alone the next day and he was more tired than he cared to admit. As expected, there had been nightmares. Although he had to give them - the dream-makers - some credit; now there were new ones of Barty dying, too. He guessed his mind was tired of torturing him with the same memory. Waking up had been worse than sleeping. It didn’t help to see a ‘loved one’ die, only to have them be dead in real life, too. He hoped Barty didn’t mind listening to him sob next to him.

After he had calmed himself and he heard the first people walk around on the floors beneath him, Tom arose and looked at himself in an old, slightly cracked mirror. Honestly, he looked like shit. And to his own dismay, he couldn't even put on a Glamour to hide the circles beneath his eyes or their puffiness. It might have been the dreams, but he felt as helpless as he had been back then. Uselessly, he twirled the wand in his pockets around in his hands, but it felt like a useless piece of wood to him. Nagini was already regarding him in silent sympathy; she did not dare to speak to him, yet. Snow, on the other hand, seemed thoroughly tired. Perhaps it was his soul-piece. Harry had often consoled him, saying he could barely feel the foreign soul within him, that it did not hurt him. But the Slytherin heir wasn’t so sure about that when he looked at the snake.

His stomach made an angry noise, wanting him to go downstairs. His pets also regarded him hungrily, not having eaten in a while. He hated the feeling of hunger, he simply could not stand it. Harry would know, what he was talking about. Somehow, it was so very hard to muster up the motivation, the _courage_ , to go downstairs and ask for a meal.

‘ _I have met these people before and they were fairly nice. There is no reason not to go to them,’_ he told himself in annoyance, but another part of him did not feel convinced. Tom wasn’t a brave person by any means - he wasn’t a Gryffindor for that very reason. Usually, his vanity forced him to not give in to his own awkwardness. Why wasn’t his mate there to help him?

With Harry, it all was so much easier. He made it so easy to feel strong and in control, but, if needed, he could also assume that role for Tom. The latter did not know, however, how he would react upon the other’s return. With every minute he was awake, he realized more and more just what the other had done, just how dangerous he could be despite his cute demeanor. With a snap of his fingers or a simple kiss, he could have killed the orphan. Just like that. And what would Bartemius say? They both knew Harry hadn’t been himself, but how much were they willing to forgive?

At this point, Tom would probably forgive his husband everything. He just wanted to have him back. He didn’t care, what Harry had done or would do. Tom needed him to help him and to make him feel happy. He did not think he could cope with their arrangement as a whole breaking apart either.

But he was postponing the issue of imminent starvation. Trying to correct his looks _without_ magick, he combed through his hair a bit. He knew it was silly to be this focused on his looks - he had a mate, after all, but he still found it essential.

Once his eyes looked fairly normal, too, and not like he had cried himself to sleep multiple times in one night, he reluctantly abandoned his Death Eater. He doubted anyone would be petty enough to attack a corpse. Facing the snakes, he ordered, “ **_Keep him safe._ **” They approvingly hissed at him, so he opened the door and descended multiple stories to get to the kitchen. Somehow, he questioned, whether someone had broken their neck on these stairs before. They were narrow and uneven, a true threat to anybody’s life. He was glad once it was over and he reached the ground level, trying not to seem too fidgety. Tom approached the kitchen door, hearing the clattering of someone busily cooking.

Entering the room, he knocked on the doorframe to alert Weasley to his presence. The woman turned around with a slight jump but quickly smiled at him. “Oh! Haven’t even heard you coming, good morning! How was the night?”

“Ah… as expected,” he uncomfortably stated, not wanting to reveal too many details. ‘ _God, why am I so awkward? This must be my imagination; this is not a symptom of becoming a Squib.’_ He scolded himself for his reluctance, expecting better of himself.

“Sweetie… I know it’s hard. Hm, let’s see- Do you want some food to cheer you up?” She requested and already waddled through her kitchen in search of breakfast for her guest, not awaiting an answer.

‘ _Woman, I’m older than you even if I don’t look like it,’_ he huffed in his mind, not appreciating to be called that. The last woman to treat him like this had been Mrs. Cole and he’d rather not think back to his time at Wool’s Orphanage, thank you very much. But, being a polite, _young_ man, he chirped, “Thank you, yes.”

“Don’t worry about it! Of course, Harry’s husband is part of our family, too, just like him!” She laughed. He guessed one more child did not matter when you already had a dozen, but he did not feel like letting himself be adopted. “Although…” She suddenly looked up from a cupboard, bit her lip, and closed the door behind him with her wand. That was something, which he did _not_ appreciate, either. “I do have to make a request from host to guest, dear.”

This couldn’t go well. Was he being extorted right now? He had been right not to trust her friendliness. Suspicious, he said, “What is it?” If she wanted to, this plain woman could hurt him. Subconsciously, he leaned against the door behind him to get as far away from her as physically possible.

“It’s about Ginny, our daughter,” she replied with a strained expression on her face, but he felt bitter-sweet relief wash over him. “You probably guessed she has a little u-uh…. That she is infatuated with you.”

“Sadly, I know, yes,” he replied, trying to calm himself down. ‘ _No, she won’t hurt me. Why would she?’_ He shook his head at himself.  “But you needn’t worry. I have no plans whatsoever to pursue this. I already made that rather clear to her, as well. I have a loving husband and I don’t… float that way.” Alone the thought of touching a woman made him want to recoil. He disliked them, especially the clingy sort.

She nodded, but also added “Thank you for that! But she is also interested in other matters, we observed. One of her older brothers has found relatively dark books in her room. Arthur and I think she is trying to join you sooner or later. Please-”

“I won’t accept her as a Death Eater, either, don’t worry. She doesn’t have the right personality for it,” he shrugged and combed through his hair once. Also, his Death Eaters would start to revolt if he let this family join - how narrow-minded they could be with their old family feuds. He deemed them amusing enough to not intervene.

But, apparently, the mother had other requests to be made. As she pulled out some toast from the abyss of a cupboard, she blushed and asked “And I also thank you for that. I know it’s just a phase of my little girl. But… Could you perhaps look at what she’s reading? Arthur already tried, but he’s really more of an expert in other areas-” Tom had to think very hard for a second, who Arthur even was. “-And I have been out of the field for ages, too. I’m used to dealing with my children making a bit of trouble but this is uh _new_. Normally, I’d ask Harry, but… well, he isn’t there and he seemed rather troubled himself.”

‘ _And I don’t?’_ He almost wanted to hiss at her but remembered this wasn’t a Death Eater of his and he had a clear disadvantage right now. So, with a sympathetic tone, he agreed “I can surely cast a look at them. I doubt they are very dark, however. She’d have no way of obtaining them that easily if they were. And, pardon me, I don’t believe her adept enough to steal or charming enough to convince someone to sell it to her.” Or rich enough, he secretly thought. In his youth, Riddle had not had the financial abilities, either. But he had been quite handy with sneaking around the castle and _borrowing_ books from his DADA Professor or the forbidden section of the library. Working at Borgin and Burkes had helped, too perhaps, in his later years. But he knew that shop would never sell anything to a Weasley - not on a fair price, anyway.

“I hope you are right, sweetie,” she voiced and breathed out heavily, before placing more food on a tray, alongside some pumpkin juice - he did not like that stuff but did not dare upset the woman, his need for food in general too big. At first, he thought he’d be given that tray so he could vanish to the splendid isolation of his room, but she took it herself, opened the door, and walked right past him to the dining room. He despised social people. What made her think he wanted to talk to them? Well, admittedly, he had been relatively open to them on Christmas and Harry’s birthday. But there, he had possessed the constant, soothing feel of his husband’s bond to him. Now there was nothing to comfort him, but a corpse and disgusting alcohol.

Unwillingly, he followed her to the other room, where the patriarch of the family sat at the head of the table and read through the Prophet, still drinking his morning cup of tea. At least the children weren’t there. The Weasley mother set down the tray next to Arthur - he remembered the name from before - despite his silent beg to place it right at the other end of the table.

“I’ll go and fetch the books quickly; Ginny is at one of her friend’s now,” the witch informed him and he nodded in sorrow, defeated. Luckily, he did not have to deal with the girl in person again. He was sure - should she attempt to touch him - he’d strangle her with his bare hands.

Arthur, not hiding his remaining inhibitions well, stuttered “U-Uh, hello… uh…”

“I suppose Tom will do, as long as none of my servants are present,“ he neutrally said, without even honoring him with a look. He’d rather be called that name than have people incoherently stutter around him _or worse_ . Barty, his little spy, had informed him of Hogwarts’ students growing a bit too bold. Some had turned to calling him ‘ _Voldy’_ or other, similar names. Sometimes, they even dared to whisper it with increasing loudness behind the Professors’ back, testing the Dark Marks abilities. Soft as the idiot was, he never punished them.

“O-Oh, okay… Uh… How’s Crouch doing?” The wizard tried to make some small-talk with him. Tom had to actively suppress his underlining worry for the dark mage upon this, unwilling to think about his real issues. He’d much rather focus on other, trivial matters.

“He’s not rotting, I suppose,” he curtly responded, which left little opportunity to mess up. Somehow, he wasn’t really hungry anymore. Nevertheless, he started to force down some food. He was used to this anyway.

The ginger awkwardly laughed, despite him not having made a joke. He was almost as bad as Lucious, Riddle thought. But he soon became a little more collected, as he asked “Do you know uh… when Harry will be back? And how long it’ll take for Crocuh Jr to heal? I still can’t believe Harry did that to him… that wound was pretty deep… But he _was_ kind of different.”

He did _so_ not want to discuss this right now. Trying to not grit his teeth visibly, the Dark Lord replied “I don’t know, no. And I also don’t want to believe it, but I saw it. He wasn’t himself at the time… Let’s hope he’ll be, once he returns.” That was also an issue. Despite his husband having seemed in control again, he did not trust it. He’d only trust it when he could not feel _one_ trace of foreign magic on the other. Also, what had that been about with Purgatory and not being conscious anymore? His husband had seemed so very delighted about that, so it couldn’t be anything good. Barty had also been uneasy, whenever referencing him and Purgatory in one sentence. Tom was no idiot - something was wrong and he did not like being left in the dark.

Furthermore, he questioned just how far Death had been in control of Harry. What if he had replaced him at times? What if he had when he and Harry had been intimate? Biting the inside of his mouth, he tried not to think of the possibility too much.

“And you truly are a Squib for the time being?” The father eyed him in doubt and he wished he could possess the same naivety.

Shrugging as if it didn’t matter, he matter-of-factly agreed “Yes, until my husband hopefully returns. This is less than ideal, obviously.” Harry, his second-in-command, was gone. Barty, his third-in-command, was also gone. He had never appointed a fourth-in-command. A shortcoming, he now realized. Well, technically, he had not made Barty such, anyway. His mate had made him so, but he did not mind.

“D-Does it hurt?”

“Only a little. It hurts because my magick was ripped in half, basically. The stress put on my aura is translated into physical pain by my brain, I’d suppose. But it’ll vanish soon enough. It’s far worse my bond is broken. Even if it doesn’t hurt in that way… it does in others,” the dark mage unenthusiastically drank some juice, trying to prevent his mood from worsening drastically. No, he did not need to fall into a depressed phase right now.

“It must be hard to be alone. Molly and I aren’t ever alone. We have our kids and our kids have friends, and spouses, and more kids - it’s never lonely. I can’t remember a day, where I was home alone. Maybe you three should adopt, once Harry is finished with school.” The man was insane, Riddle concluded. He was the type of children-hoarder, he had always been afraid of as an orphan. He had rather stayed in the orphanage than having more than ten ‘ _siblings’_ , living in a shack, and being used for child-labor.  

Trying to get away from that topic _very fast,_ he voiced “We own two snakes, that suffices. And I also don’t think any of us would be fit to be a parent.”

Arthur almost pouted, his world-view questioned. Laughing, he questioned “Why? Because you’re all men? Those times are long over. At least in non-traditionalist, pureblood families…” He seemingly thought to have found his mistake, but added himself “Then again, you’re definitely not traditionalist…”

Did he really have to explain? Deadpanning, he told the man “Harry is barely adult. He and I are both orphans and have never known, what a real family should be like. Our lifestyle is as dangerous as can be. The only person, who genuinely has a hand for children, is Bartemius. But he is also far from mentally healthy and I am not infatuated with him. No, I don’t think children are in order.” Arthur smirked at him; he wished he could wipe that off his face.

“Hm… I think your experiences would help you, however, to give them a loving home. Might better your image, too, right?”

“I don’t want my image bettered,” Tom huffed; at least not quite yet. He needed to be a monster for a while longer. And how could he begin to think about something like children, when most of his family was missing? He just wanted _them_ back.

Quietly thanking any and all higher powers as she did, Molly entered the room with three or so books in her hands. She placed them next to him on the table, before taking a seat next to him, too. “These are all I could find, perhaps she has more.” When he didn’t immediately react, she pushed them toward him another inch, making him let out a heavy breath.

Pushing the tray aside, for now, he looked at the titles “I can already tell these aren’t of any renowned authors.” He had never heard of them before. Flicking through them, he quickly found out, why. “These are dark spells, yes. But the easiest kind. They couldn’t even be used for real duels or fights; it’s more for… thievery, pranks, that sort. Although I doubt she knows that those aren’t truly dark.” One could not know the full extent of magical possibilities as an ignorant teen. “They are barely illegal, too. Maybe a grey-zone. I don’t think you have to worry much.” She’d hardly become the next Dark Lady. The concerned parents nodded in thought, seemingly happy with his answer. Molly put her hand on his arm unbidden, making him want to flinch. But he managed to remain still, as she voiced her thanks to him. Looking at the hand as if it were poisonous, he drawled “It’s alright; I don’t have much to do anyway.” Somehow, he had the feeling these would be long, exhausting days to him.

* * *

After two days, he felt like he might die of boredom. Barty had a heartbeat and breathing now, which gave him some slight optimism. But he could only watch him for so long, before unwanted thoughts started to enter his mind. In the evenings, he had even resorted to reading to the other man. Perhaps, if he read terrible romance novels to him long enough, he’d give up and awake already. Either, Barty enjoyed this faulty literature or he’d still take some days; he did not wake up, even after hours of it. Not, that Bartemius understood anything of romance anyway. He was a savage brute, who only wanted one thing, he concluded. But he was a very likable brute, indeed…

So, feeling claustrophobic and haunted by memories of the past Christmas in this little room, he made his way downstairs _again_. As of now, the kids had left him alone. Which was due to the fact not all of them were there anyway. As far as he had gathered, only that girl and Harry’s shy friend were still students. The others were working. And his husband’s friend was with that intelligent girl, the Mudblood. He pitied him for having to stay with Muggles, but that was his punishment for ruining a line.

He searched the lower level of the house for life, eventually stumbling over the patriarch sitting in his living room with what looked like a Muggle coffee machine. Alongside him - to Tom’s great regret - sat the two twins, egging their father on to make the device work already. Harry had told him those two were quite the pranksters and probably wouldn’t shy away from him either if they felt safe enough. He already wanted to turn on his heel and flee, but Arthur had already seen him and called “Oh! Uh- _Tom_ , good to see you! Why don’t you come and sit- I found this today and I _had_ to take it home. I uh… just don’t know its purpose, yet! But I will!”

Eyes wide and gawking, Fred and George whispered to their father “You are on first-name basis with _him_? Dad- What have you been doing, while we were gone?” They seemed to think him a dark wizard now. Hating himself, Tom moved toward the three and sat down across from them on a sofa, observing the wizard’s struggles.

“Well, of course! But only if Harry and Crouch Jr aren’t here - I understood that would hurt them. Now.... hm, Fred, hold this… string-thingy.”

“I’m not Fred.”

“George, then,” Arthur proceeded to push the cable into his son’s hands, so it wouldn’t dangle around and obstruct his view of the object's bottom. Whoever that son was, he still had a quite awed expression on his face. Silently, Tom watched on as Arthur managed to unscrew a bottom panel of the machine, exposing more wires. “I think this is some kind of radio… but I’m not certain. The glass thing here confuses me, perhaps it’s aesthetic?”

“Dad, for you, everything is a radio,” one of the brothers voiced, the one without the cable. The Slytherin deemed him intelligent for that observation.

“No, that isn’t true!” Molly’s husband defended himself, as he pulled some wire out of the poor machine. “And you don’t know, what it is, either. Do you?”

The half-blood did not know, whether he should enlighten them. He had parted ways with the Muggle world a long time ago, but he did know some things. _Especially_ , how a coffee machine ought to look like.

One of the boys asked him provocatively “Can I call you Tom, too?”

“If you must,” he shortly replied, not caring anymore. He had always hated his name, to be quite honest. But with Harry using it in such a loving, adoring way, it was hard to hate it nowadays. If anything, he disliked being called ‘ _master’_ by him all the time. It felt simply wrong. Eyeing them in distrust, he added, however, “Not in public, however.” He was certain they’d do it anyway. The Dark Lord was certain Barty would - or did - like the two.

“Promise!” Both of them chirped, which only elicited one thought in him: Harry would be rather proud of him, once he returned. He had managed to stay polite and friendly for three days in total.

For some reason, the father shook the machine slightly, which prompted the plastic carafe to fall out and onto the old carpet beneath his feet.

“Hm… It detaches- perhaps it does have a purpose? It opens, too… perhaps a display to put things in?” He picked it up in wonder, lifting a black lid on top of it. Then, his eyes landed on the black-haired, young man in front of him and he held one finger up. “You lived with muggles- Do you know, what this could be?”

As he was stared at in childlike hope, Tom explained “It’s a coffee machine for… well, coffee.”  Silently, he wished they had any sort of electricity here. He felt tired- if only he could have his favorite beverage.

Ludicrous, Arthur exclaimed “What- A machine just for one purpose? That’s inefficient! Why not make one for more than one drink?” He dreaded talking to fellow wizards about Muggle things. They never understood.

“...There are, but they are for commercial use. Also, Muggles drink that every morning. It’s not really inefficient,” he shrugged. But the wizards did not believe him, unhappy with his answer.

“What do they need the machine for anyway? Can’t they just… buy the coffee already finished? What does it do? If it only heats, then one could use a stove for that…”

Rubbing at his face - he had had these sorts of conversations far too many times, especially with a certain Hufflepuff pretending to be dumb - he explained again “Yes, it heats. But you don’t buy the coffee finished. You buy the beans and put them in or pulver and then the machine makes coffee with it.”

“But why?” Arthur again asked, his cluelessness making him frustrated. “Can’t they just buy and heat it?”

“Because… it only tastes fresh?” He cocked his head, because he had no better answer. Was the production of coffee really this hard to comprehend?

They furrowed their brows, Arthur turning the device around again. “Can’t they keep it fresh? They have those things… those cold cupboards-”

“That’s- no, you just don’t do it that way,” he leaned back on the sofa, weirded out by their ideas. “It wouldn’t taste good,” was his final answer. This was almost blasphemous.

“Hmpf… Muggles are fascinating,” the family father breathed out, before requesting “Can you make it work?”

Blinking in confusion, the dark mage said “...no. It needs electricity. That’s, what the cable is for…” One of the twins twirled it around in his hand, playing with it idly.

Fred wondered in disappointment “Isn’t there any spell for this? Dad made a car fly, too. A dark one?”

Tom hated having his abilities questioned, especially by idiotic teens, who weren’t his husband. But he was saved by the other man “No, Fred- He can’t right now, I told you-”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Mister Dark Lord, sir,” the twin dorkily told him, despite having the go to use his real name. Was he a hypocrite for allowing this? Then again, he couldn’t cast right now. “Is Harry fine, though?”

The naive question hurt more than it should and, this time, he could not hide his tension. “I don’t know,” he hissed, which seemed to intimidate Fred somewhat. Perhaps his father’s angry glance helped the cause, as well. Defeated and a little calmer, he murmured “We’ll see…”

Sympathetic, Arthur chirped “I’m sure he’ll be okay. He always is! Harry is very powerful and has a good heart, after all.”

“I know,” the temporary widower retorted, fighting to keep his distress invisible. He didn’t want to have to talk about his husband - he wanted to have him present. Feeling his persona break slowly, but surely, he voiced “I’ll go look after Crouch for a bit. He was already breathing before.” They nodded at him in understanding, although Arthur would surely scold his sons for treating their guest badly and making him shy away again. Tom couldn’t begin to care.

Before he knew it, he was in his little, personal hell again and leaned against the door. Barty still laid there and no Harry magically plopped into existence, either, making him feel helpless. Sitting against the door now, he declined to have his pride injured further - he wouldn’t cry because some barely adult person had said one, hurtful sentence to him. But it was _so_ hard.

He couldn't cope with any of this. He felt trapped in this small room, in this strangers’ house, without any magic to give him the feeling of _safety_ , at least. If anyone so decided, they could do _anything_ to him. And he couldn’t even be sure of Harry’s successful return. He couldn’t be sure he’d ever cast again, that he’d ever be with his bond-mate again. He couldn’t even be sure if their arrangement would work out anymore or if it would fall apart, whether Barty would forgive the other and - if he did not - if his husband could live with that. If _he_ could live with that.

He had nothing to comfort him with, but two snakes, who did not understand half of his issues. How did you tell a snake you needed a hug? They had no arms or legs!

At this point, he couldn’t even remember Harry’s smell, how his voice sounded, or how his magic felt. It all seemed to leave him by the second, only leaving the smell and feel of another, viler person behind. He was beginning to completely lose it - he knew that, he _saw_ that - but he couldn’t do anything against it.

He hated Barty for not simply standing up and being well. He didn’t want to pretend he was just asleep anymore and shift closer to that body. It gave him no more comfort than another corpse would.

Without his magic, he couldn’t even summon something of his husband toward himself, simply to remember his smell. He had _nothing_. He only had the clothes on his back, a wand, two snakes, and a corpse. He couldn’t stand touching it anymore, he just couldn’t.

But, in a moment of clarity, he finally had an idea to at least get _some_ comfort. Hoping it would work, he called “Winky…?” He had no idea, whether Squibs could call house-elves. It was rare for them to have any. He waited for a few, tense seconds, but those were already enough to break his heart further.

“Yes, m-master R-Riddle?” Came a meek, shaky voice from on top of the bed, though. However, Winky seemed far more interested in her owner, as she let out a horrified, heart-wrenching screech. Now he almost felt selfish for having called her - nobody should see their master in such a state, he supposed. He had little love for the elves, but he couldn’t help but feel equally as devastated about Barty’s state.

Leaving her for a moment to mourn, he requested after a while “...Could you bring me _anything_ from my husband? S-Some pullover? I ah… need it…” He felt truly miserable, mortified, to ask this. But he had the feeling he’d go insane sooner or later if he did not.

Somehow, she seemed to misunderstand “No! No- Master Riddle, please- Don’t make Winky free- Winky wants to stay with Master Crouch!” She shook terribly suddenly and as if he was about to kill her.

Taken aback, he drawled “I didn’t plan on that- I need it for myself…” Barty would kill him for making his elf cry. Tom questioned, whether this elf would become his in-law at some point.

Now, she seemed to understand and gratefully sobbed a “Thank you, Master Riddle! Thank you-” at him, before disapparating.

‘ _At least I’m not the only one affected by this,’_ he solemnly thought, before scrambling up slowly and sitting on the very edge of the bed.  The tiny elf, who loved her master to pieces, returned with some plain shirt Harry always slept in. To him, it might as well have been a Horcrux of his. Mindlessly, he thanked her, before trying to help her with her own misery, too, “He should wake up in a few days, don’t ah… worry too much. He’ll be fine.” That was if he did not drink himself into a coma upon waking up. He did not know the other well enough to be able to perfectly predict his actions in this. To be fair, he did know him well, but… This was a special issue, wasn’t it? Winky chocked out something incomprehensible, before vanishing.

Tom solemnly laid down on the bed, his back to Bartemius. Embarrassed, he hugged the shirt close to himself, contentedly breathing in the smell, he now remembered to belong to his husband. Ever so slowly, he calmed down and felt clarity return to his mind, not very anxious anymore. Would this be enough to help him with waking up, too? He surely hoped so.

He silently promised himself to not leave Harry’s side _ever_ again. It was unreasonable, perhaps, but he simply couldn’t. And, ideally, Crouch Jr would be there, too.

* * *

Another three days, and he was at his wit’s end. He didn’t even possess the energy to go downstairs anymore. With Winky helping him out, he barely needed to, anyway. Occasionally, Molly came to check, whether he was still alive. At this point, he wasn’t so sure about that himself.

He faced the wall, still resting on the bed as he held the most important possession in the world to him right now. What if Harry never came back? He was immortal. Eventually, he’d have to find someone willing to take his Horcruxes and destroy them. And Barty was mortal, he’d be gone soon.

He couldn’t bear those thoughts another second, but life decided to torture him further. Was this its sick way of making him feel remorse? It was its own fault he had done all of this. Well, he could blame himself for the Horcruxes, but not for all those deaths. Most of them had deserved it. Hadn’t life betrayed him so as a young child, he’d be different- _everything_ would be!

He didn’t deserve any of this. And Barty deserved even better than him. And Harry, too.

He couldn’t tell the minutes apart anymore, it all felt useless anyway. But, at one point, something _did_ decidedly differentiate that minute from the others.

“Bloody hell, I’m really alive…” A certain someone rasped, before coughing a bit violently and hitting his chest. As quickly as he could, Tom turned around in confused awe - was he dreaming? He turned so quickly he almost collided with Barty propping himself up with an elbow now, who only wheezed “Whoa, slow down, will you? I just came back from the dead, you know?”

“You _did_ …” Riddle could only breathe out at that, staring at him like some kind of ghost. He could not believe this. No, this had to be another, cruel dream. Any moment now, Harry would come to kill him again.

After a moment of silence, Barty furrowed his brows “What, no ‘ _hello’_ ? No ‘ _you’re finally back!’_ I’m hurt, you know?” On second thought, he admitted, “That is if I was even gone for long…”

“Y-You… ah… you’re not surprised _I_ am even still here?” Tom could only voice upon that, mind empty, as he laid far too close to the other. If he wanted to, he could easily reach for him and embrace the other. But he felt frozen into place, too shocked to ask for the much-needed affection.

Cocking his head with a dorky, lovable smile, the other replied “Nah. I met sunshine. He told me all the ins and outs of what happened. By the way, he’ll need a few more days and says he misses you. And _loves_ you, of course.”

“H-He… he’s fine?”

“Well, course he is! You don’t look fine, though. You look like shit,” his trusty Death Eater informed him and, yes, he probably did. “Have you slept at all? Eaten? You look like someone, who has spent a few years in Azkaban - I should know.” Was Barty his mother-hen now, too?

The words did not totally register in his mind, the only thing there, was, ‘ _He’s awake. He woke up. He’s alive. I’m not alone!’_

Worried, Barty touched his cheek to make him react to his words. “Are you having a stroke?” He asked, not very tactful. The dark mage didn’t know, what he should do now.

“N-No,” was something, he could settle for, however. He simply looked at the other man in this bed, not minding his cheek being touched either. He was glad the other was alive, that was all. No, he wasn’t having a stroke - he wasn’t that old and unhealthy. “I’m so glad y-you’re awake…” He voiced his feelings before he could stop himself.

“You are?” The other did not seem to fully believe him, joking “And there I thought you were glad to be rid of me! This was your chance!” When he did not respond to his morbid humor verbally, but with a soft, half-broken smile, Crouch Jr pragmatically pulled him closer by his middle and hugged him. Instantly, Tom hugged back and clutched at him, worried he might disappear again. He had had that dream a bit too often these past two decades.

Pressing his face into the bare chest in front of him, he pleaded “Don’t leave me-”

“Never, you know that,” his former apprentice replied and he _hated_ him for it. He hated him because he knew those words, he had heard them before, and he knew Barty always kept his word. He could be in Azkaban, trapped in his Manor or dead, he’d always come back like the loyal dog, he was. He hated him so much for it, it almost hurt. When Tom said no more, but quietly held onto him, Barty began to tenderly caress his back. Breathing relaxedly like he hadn’t just been revived, the other comforted him “And I told you I’d do it. I’d do it again, too…”

He knew that. He knew Barty would kill himself over and over again if he needed to. But he couldn’t understand the reason; he didn’t _want_ to. In response, he slightly nodded, helpless to it.

After a while of silence, he went on “I’m sorry, you know?”

“For… what?” He asked in confusion; this seemed out of place. He lifted his head up, hoping to look at the other would aid him to understand. It did not. He only started to resent that loving expression on the other more.

“Us,” he curtly responded, but might as well have hit him with a Killing Curse. He tried to struggle away slightly, not wanting this conversation to go that way. “No, you’re not running away from me again. I think I deserve to talk with you about it.” Barty held him, trapping him in his hold and seeming hardly fazed by his resistance. He wished he could say his rising panic stemmed from that, but it didn’t.

Not giving up yet, he hissed “ _No_ -”

“ _Yes_. I died for you, so you can listen to my bullshit,” he huffed and made no move to free him. Tom felt as if Barty had some extra extremities to trap him; this wasn’t fair. He didn’t want this!

Whining lividly, he declared, “Let go-”

“Nah, I think not. Stop struggling. Where would you even run off to, huh? Without your magick?” He was taunted and, to showcase his situational inferiority, Barty rolled them over to trap him with his body weight. Well, _now_ he was frightened because of it. But his fright paralyzed him, making him cease his struggling - had that been the plan? “Be nice, I’m your knight in shining armor, you prick. I’ve let you run away for the past 16 years, but not anymore. Talking is healthy.”

Trying to kick him one last time - but failing miserably - he sobbed “It isn’t!”

“It is,” the other chuckled regardless of everything, before sitting on top of him, not caring for himself being far too heavy for that. Nor that he was barely dressed and this was completely, utterly, entirely inappropriate. The only thing Tom could do, was to cross his arms defiantly, so those couldn’t be pinned above his head, too. He still held the shirt, embracing it now, and the smile on his servant seemed knowing. “Do you love me?”

Why was _that_ the first question? And why would he answer that? No, he’d especially not tell him, when he was treated like this. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do... I know, when you’re lying. You do that little thing with your eyes - that little snake-y glint. It’s not quite like the ‘ _I’m going to kill you’_ -glint, but close. Yeah, that one.” His cheek was poked by the idiot and he almost wanted to bite. But, knowing him, he’d get off on that shit. “Anyway… let’s be a tad bit more serious. You know we have issues. I know that, too.”

‘ _After 19 years, he should know I don’t like people talking to me like I’m a child.’_ He already felt himself becoming frustrated, producing a short, insulting hiss. Barty remained blissfully ignorant of it, simply talking to him more.

“The main issue is: what are we? Well, what do _you_ want us to be? Because I think my stance is pretty darn clear-”

Spitefully, he interrupted him, the softness from before gone “-You want to fuck me, yeah.”

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. He did not like the sour look it earned him - really, he just wanted to be held by the other right now. Why did they need to talk? Cuddling did not need talking to work. The shirt didn’t talk, either. “Apparently, it is not clear, then.” The Death Eater gritted his teeth, not seeming as relaxed as before. Pointing at himself, then at Tom, he said “I want to be in love with you. Really, truly in love. Not that unhealthy stuff we had before.”

“Why?” Red eyes stared at him blankly, trained to be emotionless.

“...Because I already love you? And I love this thing we have going on with Harry?” A head was cocked at him as if he were retarded. Barty almost made it sound like Harry was the third wheel in this relationship, like he had joined _them_ . But Barty had joined, not Harry. _Rejoined_.

He had enough. “There is no ‘we’ in this Bartemius. There hasn’t been a ‘we’ or ‘us’ in 16 years,” he matter-of-factly pointed out. Whatever Barty saw in them, it was a delusion. “And there is no love. You want to make up for something, which can’t be taken back. That’s all. You want me to say ‘ _Oh, sure, let’s fuck!’_ Then you fuck me, are happy with yourself because you ‘healed me’ of my bloody, _childish_ ‘phobia’. And then, when you are happy, you discard me like a used toy and go right back to my husband to fuck someone less demanding, less high-maintenance than me. Thank you, but no, thank you. If that’s your kind of love, I don’t want it. Now let me go.” Tom pushed against the other’s chest in hope of dislodging him from himself in vain. He wouldn’t budge.

“That’s, what you think of me?” Crouch Jr gripped his wrists in one, simple motion, staring at him, entirely speechless.

“I told you: I hate you,” Tom snapped. Crouch’s dog-like loyalty was false, a facade. That’s, why he hated it. His servant just wanted to feel better about himself. He didn’t do this to make his master happy. _His lost love_.

“Yeah, no wonder, when you think that way, you idiot,” he was straight up insulted. Suddenly, Crouch Jr’s face became slightly dark, sinister, as he leaned over him. He must have known this would make him afraid, bloody bastard. “Why would I want to appease my own guilt, huh? Did you actually think me _raping_ you was the worst thing in my life, that I did? In our line of work, you know it bloody isn’t,” his voice became hollow “I tortured muggles just for the shits of it, just for you. I forced some of them to miscarry - can’t have those _animals_ reproduce, right? I don’t think to rape an already broken man is the worst one, I pulled off. At least I was drunk, there.” Grinning brokenly, he cruelly chuckled “I thought you’d be so proud of me, too. Instead, you just stood there and stared at me like I had gone nuts.” Licking his lips once, he questioned “So, really, making up with you wouldn’t help me one bit. And if I only wanted your body - why, then I’d take it with that logic. Like right now… you can’t do anything against it.”

For the first time in a while, he felt truly small. While one hand held his arms, the other traced from his navel upward to his neck, making him swallow in fearful anticipation.

“Hm… I think you’re _actually_ afraid of me,” Barty uttered, pressing into a pulse point. Before he could plea him to stop, his servant withdrew entirely “But your logic is shit, so I don’t. I don’t just want your body, I don’t want to ‘heal’ you. I’m fucked up, you are fucked up, and Harry is, too. We don’t need any healing. This family isn’t a therapy session and we aren’t therapists. It would be unfair to expect any of us to be normal after a few, good fucks. I want to _love_ you. And I do love you. Question is whether you can accept that, whether you can return that.” With a final, nasty remark, he ended his monologue “Or whether you’ll tell yourself I’m just here to hurt you again, so you can feel better about your own inability to _move on_.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” he snapped, not immediately having a better response. Tom still felt skeptical. The Barty, he knew - the Barty, he had been obsessed with - wasn’t this selfless and wise. His Barty was rash, an idiot, clingy, and perverted. So he laughed at him “So what? You’re telling me you’re fine with potentially being all fluffy and lovey-dovey for the rest of your life? That you _don’t care_ if I’ll never let you have me? Doesn’t seem like it.” To provoke him further, the dark mage bucked up into the other, eliciting a heated smirk in the other. “You’re not a pink, naive, little girl. Neither am I.” Barty did not seem to take him seriously as he giggled slightly. “And you can’t always go running to Harry, so he’ll give you release. He’s not a toy, either. He deserves better than to be your outlet of sexual frustration and you know it.”

“That’s _low_ , Tom. He isn’t my outlet. And, of course, it would suck to not get a piece of you ever again. But I’ll take the lovey-dovey stuff, too. Because I love you,” he was called out for his sloppy argumentation. Tom knew, too, that the Hufflepuff loved Harry no less than he himself did. No, he wanted that love for Harry to come his own way, too.

“Ugh… What do you even love about me, hm?” Because, if it wasn’t his forever young body, what was it? He knew this to be unfair - he hadn’t made it this hard for Harry back then. Then again, Harry hadn’t abused his trust like this.

Sighing again as if talking to someone dumb, his least favorite servant explained “Love isn’t just an accumulation of traits I like about you, you bloody hypocrite. But, fine, here we go: You’re bright, you’re just, you’ve got lots of issues. You can be super sarcastic, you can be soft and sweet. And, no, before you ask: I don’t just like your public mask. I like the real Tom, more. You know, the _human_? Who actually shows emotions sometimes? The one who is missing half the time, yeah, that guy.”

Harry had instructed him, hadn’t he? He’d never be able to come to these conclusions himself. “Bartemius, I can’t always be ‘that guy’. It’s a strain, it’s ugly. If I constantly let every emotion of mine show, I’d either cry half the time, cower somewhere in fear, or kill someone. You can’t love that person-”  
“-And Harry can’t love that person, either? That’s a bit unfair, don’t you think? He’s got part of that person _in_ him. And we both aren’t in love with you to have a picture-perfect, creepy puppet follow us around. Your little, show-offy personas are nice and all, yeah. They can be fun to have sex with, too. But I don’t want that. It’s uncomfortable, once you can see through them. I don’t wanna see a broken person with a mask on - then I’d masturbate in front of a mirror. I want the real Tom.”

Turning his head to the side, he pointed “Which one? Which one is the real one, huh? I had seven Horcruxes - they all have personalities. And then there is me, the eighth part. Who is the real one? There is less soul in me than out of me. There is no definite me-”

A soft, but firm hand grasped his chin and turned his head back toward a fed up face. “Don’t be all high and mighty with those shitty things. I don’t care about those. _You_ are the only part I care about, whatever part that is. And all of those have the same template, anyway. They all have that scared, fucked-up little boy inside of them. _That_ is what I want. If you’re scared, I wanna see it. If you’re hurt, I wanna see it, too. If you want hugs, for Merlin’s sake, show me. I’ll provide. But I don’t want some stuck up idiot with a crown on top of his head, who’s invincible and emotionless. I want to _care_ for you. Is that so hard to comprehend for you? That there is some second guy, who cares? Who cares, without asking for much back?”

“Too bad I don’t want that person to come out, I guess.” He bit his tongue, again looking somewhere else.

Staring at him in disbelief, the other pointed out to him “But you let him come out - just not with me! Have you ever looked at yourself, when you’re with Harry and you’re letting go of control for a while? It’s like you’re a different person! You’re meek, a bit awkward, cuddly, pretty attached, super fluffy! What are you afraid of? That I will hurt you again? I did that without you giving up control! That I’ll judge or that I’ll not take good care of you? I let myself be _slaughtered_ for you…”

Barty was a hypocrite, who saw himself as a saint, he felt. “Why do you want me to be like that with you? You’d never treat me like you treat Harry. I’ve seen you interact! All your stupid hand-holding, those little kisses, and patting. You treat him like you’re his big, scary guardian or some shit like that. You cheer him up, you coddle him, you tell him made up stories-” He knew he was blushing slightly and not presenting this well, but he couldn’t stop. This had gnawed at him for a bit too long.

“Are you jealous?” The Death Eater lightened up, but also seemed startled.

“ _No-_ ” He tried to decline immediately - no, he was not jealous. He simply felt treated unfairly, with less love than someone else.

But the other interrupted him again, painfully smiling “Why in Merlin’s name didn’t you just _tell_ me? If you want me to do that, I’ll gladly do it. You’re such an idiot for someone so bright.” A bit defensive, he also added “I mean - you don’t have any right to look at me that accusingly, you prick. How in the world should I have known? It’s not like you’re exactly sweet with me at all times - that’s new.”

“Tsk- How can you say you love me if you can’t even read me?” Tom became a bit petty, just wanting this discussion to end now. He did not want to be dissected further. Not, when he had barely anything to throw back at the other anymore.

Offended, Barty squished his face slightly with his hands. “Do you even know, how bloody hard it’s to read you? Also, I knew you as a completely different person, some ultra-dominant despot! It’s kinda hard to see you in another way when you’ve been lied to a bit too often and for a bit too long.” The orphan had no idea, what to say to that. Rationally, he knew he was difficult to deal with. But he also had very high standards put up for Barty and he had grown used to Harry simply reading his mind to understand. He wished Harry were there to negotiate between them. They didn’t understand each other, he felt. “What, the rest is silence now?” Stubborn, ruby eyes watched him. “Well… what will it be then? What do you want me to do?” Tom had no idea. Well, he did want to cuddle and reverse time - this conversation was one big mess. “If you don’t talk, you won’t like the consequences.”

“Yeah? Are you going to hurt me? I suppose Harry would be very proud of you,” he played it down. Bartemius could do nothing, really. His husband’s opinion of him was far too important to him. Tom’s health not so much, perhaps.

His former apprentice pulled a face. “You didn’t get _anything_ I just said, did you? What about the sentences ‘ _I love you & I want to care for you’ _ makes you think I’d hurt you as a consequence?”

Did he truly have to answer that? Self-deprecatingly, the Slytherin pointed out with a roll of his eyes “Do you know, just how many people told me that very thing and proceded to hurt me right afterward? Two, to be exact. Just because someone calls me ‘ _lovely’_ or says ‘ _oh, you’re a sweet one, huh? Let’s get some candy for this cutie!’_ doesn’t mean they have good things planned for me, I learned.” And, yes, Barty was one of these two people. Although there had been more attempts - which had usually ended in death for them.

The other had a dark look on his face. “Can I say anything right?” His servant seemed to be slightly steaming, which was exactly his goal. Eventually, he’d give up on this ridiculous enterprise like this and leave him alone. Although he did not want to be alone - no, he just wanted to make him shut up.

“No,” Tom worded it very simple for him, so he’d get it.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line, but Tom could still see a tongue moving behind that. It wouldn’t be long until the other would snap. Ideally, that would end in him hurting Tom, bringing some distance between them and making them forget about all this closeness. That would help Tom most - he wanted to have a clear head again. Not clouded by two Death Eaters at once. “Hmpf… then I’ll have to stop talking, I guess. A different approach…” The Hufflepuff squinted at him in thought, which made him worry. Barty thinking never ended well in his experience. Oftentimes, he came to very horrifying conclusions.

“Stop thinking, too, while you’re at it,” he voiced for that reason and let his head loll to the side again. At least his servant was warm on top of him, he guessed. If only he could pull that moron down to hug him - he wanted nothing else.

For the third time or so, his face was forced to look at the other. However, the man was suddenly right in his face, only inches away. “Good idea,” Barty voiced sarcastically, before forcing a kiss on him. Right away, the older one fought against him slightly. He wasn’t very afraid of this, but this was the opposite of his intentions. Barty seemed unaffected by his resistance, simply cloaking him with his body and pressing impossibly closer until Tom _couldn’t_ move anymore.

Tom hated this, he hated it _so_ much. But, at the same time, he didn’t want the other to leave him again. So he remained passive and accepted his fate, letting soft lips ravish him to the best of their abilities, trying to coax a much-needed emotion out of him. A hand landed in his hair, gripping at it ever so slightly, hoping to elicit a positive response again. The only thing it elicited was Tom beginning to cry, at which Barty withdrew with a guilty look on his face and a heavy sigh escaping him.

Trying to ignore his own distress, the dark mage hollowly questioned “-you want _this_ ?” It was a rhetorical question, meant to be answered with a _no_.

“Yes,” Barty loyally and with the eyes of a dog informed him. He then nuzzled his neck shortly, placing another kiss there, before rolling away to his side and pulling the other body with him and into his arms. “It’s really not that hard to understand,” he huffed offensively, as he wrapped his arms around the other and pushed their heads together. It was slightly awkward, Tom being taller than his sibling, but it would do. ”I love you,”  the Death Eater unhappily reminded him again giving him another peck.

Tom remained silent. This was an okay status quo again. He could work with this, he could fit it into his personal belief system fairly well. Just because the other said that, didn’t mean he meant it. That was good.

Staring at him, the Hufflepuff mumbled “No, that isn’t _good_. I love you, that’s final. Otherwise, I wouldn’t even put up with your bullshit right now.”

Petrified, Tom ordered, “S-Stop reading my mind.” He had forgotten Barty was a Legilimense and that he had no way of cloaking his mind right now. Had he read him- Yes, he had! That was, why he had forced him to look at the other! ‘ _I’m going to kill you.’_ His thought was followed by another, less vicious one ‘ _He heard everything…’_

“Yes, I heard everything. You have a pretty twisted perception of me,” the traitor undermined his authority over him. Then again, the Dark Mark was just a tattoo right now, wasn’t it? “Harry loves me, you know? He’s happy to have me. And I’m happy to have him. If you’re so jealous of our connection, why don’t you let me in? We could have that. I know you want it and need it, too. Little sunshine is too young to carry the burden of your problems.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“Which means, I’m right.”

Stroking over his former apprentice's back idly, he couldn’t help but snort. “You’re too young to carry my burdens, too.”

“I’m turning 35 this year. I think that could be called being _adult_ in most cultures around the globe,” he snickered and dismissed his problem. But Tom was more than double his age.

“You have enough problems coming to terms with your own burdens, Barty. I think you hardly need more.”

Another kiss, Tom didn’t mind anymore. “I carry some of yours, you carry some of mine. So I’d not have more, only different ones. Maybe I’m better at unfucking your problems than you. And maybe you can unfuck my problems for me, too.” That _did_ sound like a deal. Also, the Slytherin knew for a fact he couldn’t deal with his own issues on a regular basis. Harry helped, but maybe a second mind would be even more efficient?

“I don’t know…” He truly did not. He wished this were even the slightest bit easier.

Murmuring against his plush lips more or less, the other voice “We’ll try. Let’s make a deal: You _tell me_ , what you want without me having to ask you. That’s all I want. What do you want from the deal?”

He hadn’t even agreed to any sort of deal-making! But, nevertheless, this could prove useful. He thought, before demanding “You treat me equal to Harry.”

“Deal. I can do that. Let’s try this for a while, see how it goes,” the other showcased his plan, which he could agree to. “Although…” He frowned then, smooching Tom again and pressing him closer by his middle- a little too close. “Treating you entirely equal to sunshine might be hard if we don’t sleep with each other.”

“... As I’ve been told, Harry informed you of what would be needed for that to work. So I’ll pass for now,” he reminded the other he would not be doing that.

He was faced with a smirk and a raised brow “ _For now_?”

“I want you to shut up and cuddle me now,” Tom fulfilled his end of the deal, not wanting the other to misinterpret.

“I think I interpret your love for me better than you can yourself,” his disobedient servant called him out on his thoughts one final time, before kissing his forehead.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, it's really weird writing in Tom's pov but also refreshing. It will soon swap again, though.


	11. Dangerous Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Barty try to get along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said there'd be only three more chapters but... there will be more. This would be the third, after all.

**Chapter 10**

**Dangerous Ideas**

* * *

* * *

 

He wished Barty had _not_ woken up. Despite trying his hardest not to blush, he couldn’t help it. Feeling his face heat up, he tried to cover it with a hand, growling beneath his breath “Let me go, you insufferable moron!” No, this wouldn’t do.

“I’d not let Harry go, though, if he said something like that,” the idiot replied, as he hugged him from behind and drew shapes into his abdomen. Normally, he would have taken no offense in that. He had given his consent for this, after all, and Tom wasn’t one to lead Barty on.  But they were standing in the kitchen’s doorframe and the Weasley parents were there, and they looked at them in morbid fascination, perhaps _pride_.

Tom hadn’t even wanted to go downstairs. But Barty had told him it would be impolite to leave without saying goodbye first. He knew that, too, of course. But he still didn’t want to. However, Barty was the only one able to apparate and he had _forbidden_ it.

So Tom awkwardly declared “ _Obviously_ , Crouch has awoken. Which means I’ll not bother you further. Thank you for your hospitality.” Great, could he go now? Preferably, before he embarrassed himself even further - or Barty did it for him?

“Oh, sweetheart- You didn’t bother us at all! We love having visitors! You could stay if you wanted to,” she chirped at him, coming closer. Barty let go of him then and the Dark Lord could _feel_ his shit-eating grin as he was immediately hugged by someone else. As she let go of him, she next went for Crouch, who gladly returned the hug. He hated him. “It was good to have you here, too. Even uh… unconscious.”

Charismatic as ever, he chuckled “Thanks, Molly.”

Why did that bastard know her name? Why was he so much better with social matters than himself? Tom felt himself growing flustered when Molly stepped away again and Barty prevented him from stepping away, too. Unbidden, an arm snaked around his waist again, pressing him close to the man’s side.

“When Harry’s back, he has to visit, as well,” Arthur smiled at them, too, holding a glass of juice.

“We’ll tell sunshine that,” Barty agreed as if he were actually _keen_ on coming back that soon. Stroking him reassuringly, the younger one called “Right, my Lord?”

Craning his neck to give him a death-stare, he huffed “I am certain ‘ _sunshine’_ will come here on his own accord anyway, Bartemius.” No, he did not like or encourage Barty’s pushy behavior. Nor the weird nickname.  He also didn’t like the weasels’ dumb, pseudo-happy smiles. It wasn’t like they were his parents now, was it? He was too old to be adopted by those child-hoarders. They had no right to feel happy about their ‘relationship’ - which wasn’t even a real, tangible thing. Almost, he wanted to tell them of Bartemius’ real, darker nature. If only to wipe those smiles off their faces.

“Even better, my Lord,” the other let on nothing, despite his Lord’s warning tone. He simply grinned at him like a love-sick fool. Tom should have been more careful in his deal-making, he felt. “Anyway, we should go now or the snakes will get huffy or something.” Crouch Jr nodded at them politely - he had already brought them home.

After telling them farewell, Crouch thoughtfully warned him of apparating. ‘ _As if I wouldn’t notice his intent; I’m not that senile, yet.’_ Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but have a sense of security blanket him, as they reappeared in the Manor’s entrance hall. He couldn’t lie, it was nice to be home. And this certainly was more of a home to him than Malfoy Manor or his own shack. When he realized Barty staring at him again, he cursed himself. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he snarled, knowing his mind wasn’t a safe space anymore.

“Nah, I’d never become… presumptious. Hm, you know you can just stay here all the time, right? Even after the holidays. The wards are keyed in on you anyway…” The owner of the house proposed, clearly selfish in his intent. He wanted to have Tom live in his home like a zookeeper liked to see animals in their habitats.

“I know that.”

“Just saying…” His servant cooed at him a little sheepishly, invading his personal space again. “Or you could stay in my rooms at Hogwarts, of course. I’ve considered renovating them a bit, too.” His cheek was kissed as if they were a more chaste kind of _couple_ ; fiancées, who were waiting to be wed and have their honeymoon.

But Tom had to frown at other things, too. First of all, “Why? Harry will be finished within a year. It’s a waste of money.” His hand was taken and toyed with, slightly bigger fingers than his stroking over the back of his hand almost attentively. He didn’t resist any of those little affections, even if he still wasn’t sure about the honest aims of the other. For now, he let it all play out. “And I doubt you’d want to peruse your teaching career, once he’s gone…” He knew his Death Eater mainly wanted to teach, so he could bed his husband at any given time, whenever he felt like it. The Slytherin also huffed “I don’t even know, how you evaded my curse placed on the position. It’s going to be your third year and… well, you have found your ultimate demise. But far too late even then…” He was a little disappointed.

He was laughed at. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll pursue it, what else would I do all day? And Harry might even take on to become a Professor, too. He definitely has a hand for it. I mean, we both don’t have much to do. We’re fighters, torturers… Not good spies or politicians. We’re useless outside the war. Also, the money’s not wasted. It’s for you.” Yes, it was true. Neither of his two favorites was much use as a spy; they were too recognizable.

He didn’t understand his other idea, however, so he deemed the other delusional again. “For me? What would I care about your rooms? I sleep there, but I don’t spend much time there otherwise. And Harry is still my apprentice - I have to teach him before he can teach others.” His poor, uncontrolled husband had still so much to learn. His time as the Master of Death had certainly been useful in his education, but he still had so much potential. It physically hurt him to see it unused.

“I think my death gave you some kind of trauma or something. You’re so slow at the moment.” He was again insulted - a trend he should stop, once he had his magic back. For now he only dug his nails into the gentle hand grasping his. “Or didn’t you listen to sunshine? For your nightmares to get better, you have to be in a safe, stable environment. I don’t think that half rotten place is beneficial to your health. Also, you can’t teach him all day. You don’t want him to get bored, do you?” No, he did not want that. Boredom was a dangerous disease to powerful wizards. Barty knowingly smiled.

“So you _do_ want to heal me, after all. How selfless of you. Do you think you can make your rooms so pretty, I’ll _beg_ you to fuck me?” The dark wizard sharply replied, taking a step back from the source of his misery. “I’m afraid you won’t win my heart - or body - over like that. That is if you don’t drug me again.” Barty could buy him a palace, but those things were meaningless to him. Actions were far more telling than material _gifts_.

Barty didn’t get angry or provoked, quite to his surprise. He only raised a contemplative eyebrow “Only you could get angry at someone trying to help you with your night terrors. But don’t worry, my love has no strings attached to it or something.”

‘ _I’m not the unreasonable one here, runt. Why is he talking to me like I’m some sort of idiot- Shit.’_

“I don’t think you’re being unreasonable. I know you’re afraid and stuff; it’s hard to trust people, even now. Especially now.” Tom did not need his own apprehension explained. If he knew one thing very intimately, it was his fears. Of course, he couldn’t trust anyone fully. Not even with the war over and done for. As Harry had so beautifully proven, everyone could make an attempt at his life. “Hell, I don’t trust you.”

“Very reassuring,” he feigned sarcasm. He had not thought the other to not trust him, really. Of course, he had killed Barty almost once. But otherwise? He did not think he had given him many reasons to doubt his leadership. The torturing was a simple means of disciplining his family and they all got the same treatment.

“It’s not about, what happened 16 years ago. I deserved that,” the loyal Hufflepuff deflected, which was a bit too morbid, even for Tom. “It’s more about… everything. It’s very hard trusting someone, who hides so much and is so… bloody stubborn, so reluctant to open up and change his ways. You’re frustrating, Tom.” But there was no vice in his voice, only playfulness. He sneakily caught his hand again and pulled at him like he was some dog on a leash “Let’s sit down somewhere, though. I don’t like standing around here.”

Seemingly, Barty deemed the topic ended with that. But Riddle was not appeased yet. While being guided to one of the lounges - why he needed to hold hands eluded him - he suddenly questioned, “Do you trust Harry?” He needed to test the other further. Would he sugarcoat it to gain his favor?

“Now or before?” He was answered with another question, but he could hear the tension in his voice.

“Both.”

With a heavy sigh, the experienced Death Eater replied “At first I thought he might kill me in my sleep when he was freshly marked. But then I found out he really wasn’t uh… shit, how do I say this- That he really wasn’t all that big of a threat. He’s not really the Savior everyone made him out to be, you know? And once we grew a little closer I trusted him completely anyway. He’s _so_ innocent. Was, really.” But then he pointed out “But all that Master of Death nonsense kinda… it changed him, Tom. Even in Purgatory, he was different. I’d be a hypocrite to say I trusted him the past weeks. I-I mean, after our OP…”  He broke off shortly, before going on “We’ll have to see, once he returns.”

Barty unceremoniously let himself fall on a couch, messing up his hair a little before reaching out a hand.

‘ _I’m insane,’_ the Dark Lord mused silently, as he took it and let himself be pulled into a lap, placing his legs on each side of Crouch’s. But it _was_ nice to be held occasionally - he hadn’t been in weeks - and he did want to try this out for a while. ”Was he angry you pointed your wand at him?” They had not yet talked much about Harry, which he felt guilty for. It had only been them. ‘ _Us.’_ Uncertain, he touched the other’s shoulder and tested the waters. The purple shirt - surely Barty’s favorite - seemed fairly high-quality. But not as good as the clothes, he and his husband wore. Perhaps, he’d change that. The other not wearing robes unnerved him anyway.

Fortunately, the other shook his head. “No, he was pretty collected. A little _too_ collected, actually. I don’t know, it was kinda scary. The whole place was. There was just… nothing.” His servant hugged him, holding him close and preventing escape. Tom didn’t want to escape, though.

Trying not to show his bliss upon being hugged this tenderly too much, he lifted his head and furrowed his brows “Too collected? My husband isn’t insane, Bartemius.”

“No, no, of course not! I don’t know… Well, at first he wasn’t very calm. He outright screamed at Death. Poor guy started crying, too. Tom, they must have been talking a lot - I didn’t even _get_ half the stuff they fought about. Death just told him something like ‘ _I love you and I did this to make you happy.’_ I think he really meant it, too. And sunshine basically told him, how none of that made him happy.” Barty scratched his head as if trying to remember as many details as possible. “But then they calmed down I think. And uh... Death kinda went _inside_ Harry to do his thing for a while. Said he needed to be close to the soul or some shit like that. Afterward, Harry was a bit… off. He magicked up all kinds of stuff to make me comfy or something. L-Like whole buildings and stuff. Then he suddenly started talking about souls and- and fate and- I don’t even know, what else. Little brother seemed to really know, what he was going on about - I sure as hell didn’t. We then talked about what happened in the Ministry - had a little pep-talk, you see. And then he just… sat there. Time was a bit funky over there, but he sat there for some hours. Days, maybe. He seemed really annoyed when I disturbed him. When I asked him about it, he just said ‘ _I’m in tune with this realm, I’m observing the souls pass into the afterlife. It’s fun, brother.’_ Uh… needless to say, I stopped asking then.”

Fascinated by his tale, Tom couldn’t help but worry for his mate. He hypothesized “I suppose he connected with Death more deeply. Let’s just hope that he remembers to cut the connection.” He must have seemed deeply concerned and troubled to his servant because he kissed his temple again. Weirdly enough, Tom felt protected by him. This wasn’t right, he should feel the opposite. He should feel no more protected by Barty than he would feel with Lucious.

“Don’t worry about it. He seemed normal enough when he sent me back. A little sad, too. He’d never leave us alone here,” Barty softly reminded him and he saw the sense in it. He felt weirdly tired like he just needed to close his eyes and he’d drift off immediately. Contented, he rested his head on the other’s chest.

In that moment of silence, however, he finally got it. “You’re manipulating me.”

“What? No… You do that, too, all the time.” Barty became defensive, a pout on his face.

“Yes, but not on unsuspecting Squibs,” he growled with a sense of uneasiness. Barty had manipulated his magic to neatly wrap around him, he had concluded. Tom hadn’t even known him to possess such a level of control over his magic or such a big aura for that to work. Usually, he refrained from looking at it too closely. It must have grown over time.

“Come on… It’s nothing bad. I only want to make you feel good,” the other nudged at his hip, trying to elicit some thankfulness in him. “No manipulation is at work here.”

He knew that, too. This wasn’t a mind trick, this was supposed to comfort him. But it was scary when he couldn’t sense magic as such anymore, when he couldn’t understand. “I don’t like it.”

“Right now?”

“Right now, yes,” he stared at his hands, which had fallen into his lap. Without further prompts, the feeling of being blanketed by something left him, making him think a little clearer again.

An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them, despite warm hands rubbing over his lower back. Tom wasn’t sure, whether he liked this version of Barty more than the last. Originally, he had ‘fallen in love’ with him because of his meek, humble nature. The nature, Harry possessed, too. Now Crouch was less meek and not really humble. He was self-hating at points, but that wasn’t humbleness. But now he seemed to care more, seemed to be more understanding of his antics, too. Even, if he was quite clumsy in executing his affection. Finally, he seemed to see him for who he truly was. Hands encased his face, making him look up “What are you thinking about, hm?”

“Things you’d not understand,” he replied, wanting to persevere some of his privacy.

But the other shook his head, rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks. Tom shakily breathed out, this reminded him too much of another person. “I do understand a great deal. You’ve got to give me some credit, too. Harry would tell me I’m bright.” Harry would have noticed his apprehension, too, however. Barty didn’t, he steadily kept on caressing his face, forcing him to grow accustomed to it.

“I’m not Harry,” he reminded him. No, he wasn’t like the Gryffindor at all. He wasn’t brave, he didn’t sacrifice himself, he wasn’t as social. But he was good at controlling himself and acting.

“But you want me to treat you like Harry. If Harry were this mean to me, I’d start drinking very soon. And then Harry would get angry at me and then we’d talk about it,” the Death Eater informed him as if he didn’t know all that.

Sly, Riddle drawled “We can drink either way.” He didn’t want to motivate the alcoholic further, he simply wanted to see, what would happen.

“Nah, I made a promise to Harry to stay sober. And I don’t think it would be entirely safe…” he eyed him darkly “... for you. I’m no saint, while drunk. You know that. Might get funny ideas.” Tom felt surprise wash over him. Barty _very_ rarely addressed his own issues. “Well, I’m constantly improving myself! You’ve just not been around to see- or didn’t want to see it. I don’t know.”

“I am around now, feel free to show me,” was his only reply to that before he shifted closer and rested for a bit.

* * *

"You know, I think you should call in the family soon. You haven’t in ages,” his substitute adviser told him on another day. Tom had tried to hide from him in the library, reading. But he had only stared at the same page for a while, thinking about his situation.

Startled by that suggestion, he stared at him helplessly. Sheepishly, he told him “I can’t access the Dark Mark right now. And what would I tell them about Harry’s absence? Or about anything at all? We can’t even explain the murders to them. I have nothing to show for myself.” No, this wasn’t a very good idea. “Also, at least the brighter ones will notice my aura being in literal shreds. What do I tell them?” He couldn’t face them right now, but he knew Barty was right. It had been too long. Soon, they’d start to think.

His Death Eater drew closer to him with slow, precise steps. “I could call them. Tell them you two are on vacation. Explain some other stuff, appoint people.” He confidently shrugged “I’ve been around longer than Harry, I should be able to do that.”

He stood before Tom now, the latter having to look up at him as he sat on an armchair. “Your Mark isn’t tuned to do such a thing, Barty. Of course, you could call for help, so they’d come… Ah, but they’d question that. I would have changed your Dark Mark for that-”

“It’s tuned, my Lord,” Barty informed him at which he had to cock his head to the side. He had never done that. Before he could ask, Barty smiled mischievously “I did it.”

“... _How_? You can’t,” he did not believe him. For that to work, Barty would not only need to understand the charm fairly in-depth, but he’d also need Parsel. “It’s just not possible.”

But, again, he was surprised by the other male. Smirking, as he did, he explained “It’s really not that hard. I mean, you showed me some stuff. Don’t you remember that?”

Stomped, he answered “Yes, but… I never showed you _that_ and you need… Parsel?” In the past, he had shown the other how to have a little _fun_ with it. Afterward, young Barty had pestered him for so long until he had unveiled a few more tricks. Barty had been very annoying, but very charming in his deception. He had never managed to say no to most things. Only one, and that...

“I was able to deduce certain things, _of course_ . I’m not as bright as you, but I’m not a troll. Also - I’ve been around you and your forsaken snake for years. And: Harry. I can do some stuff in Parsel,” he proudly told him. But Tom only raised a doubtful brow. Parseltongue was hard to pull off for a normal person. To produce the sounds needed, one had to be quite talented with their tongue. Even a simple ‘ _Hello’_ would be too much for most. But Barty had a skillfull tongue, didn’t he?

So he laughed “I’m certain you can, Barty.” Licking his lips, he challenged him “But sure, do try. Say something.” This would be fun. Maybe it was time for the other to be embarrassed now.

Egged on sufficiently, the other really did try “ **_Family-Gathering. Runt. Love._ **” He randomly hissed words and crossed his arms, quite smug.

“ **_Interesting_ **…” Tom involuntarily slipped into his native tongue, too, upon hearing it.

“Doesn’t mean I understand it, though. I mean, Harry told me what it said. It’s just stuff I hear you use often,” he uneasily pointed out, afraid Tom would overestimate his abilities. “But it was enough to mess with the Mark a bit. Maybe a word of advice: make it so people can’t mess with it by using random words.”

Trying not to sound too horrified, he agreed “Definitely…” His mind raced to find more loopholes ‘ _Oh god… The things Harry and Death could have done with it - he could have activated the kill-switch-_ ’ His eyes suddenly got wide, as he looked at Barty.

“K-Kill switch? You built in a kill-switch? And you- Harry- Please don’t be serious-” The Death Eater freaked out, staring at his uncovered arm like he had a disease. “Why would you need a kill-switch?!”

Blinking, he neutrally said “... To kill everyone at once, should the need arise…?”

“We’re your servants!” His Death Eater seemed deeply hurt by that. “You can’t just- We’re loyal! Sometimes… Mostly!”

Feeling caught and scolded sufficiently, he bit his lip “I’m sorry.”

That did not produce the wanted effect. Instead, the other seemed even more dumbfounded “You _apologize_? That’s…” He blinked, searching for a word. “...new.” But Tom knew he had wanted to say something else, perhaps ‘jarring.’

“I do have my moments,” the Slytherin blankly told him. But there were more important matters “Anyway, even if you can call them… What do you want to tell them? That we found the murderer behind their backs? That I distrusted them? And that I still do, hence why I don’t tell them the name of the murderer?” It was still an unwise idea and Barty must have realized that too.

But he shrugged, swiping over his Mark idly as if to dust it off. “They know you don’t trust them as far as you can throw them. And why so uncreative, hm? Why tell them the truth or nothing at all? I’ll find a scapegoat for us, don’t you worry about it. A nice, rich guy… With a grudge against us. That won’t be too hard. Give me a day and I’ll have one to show the others, bloodied, and ready to be punished by them, too.”

Tom did not enjoy his enthusiasm, neither his recklessness. “Alone? You can’t go kidnap someone all on your own.”

“Afraid to lose me again?” He was faced with a knowing grin, which he tried his hardest not to react to. “My Lord, I’m an adult. If it weren’t for our fight and your vanquishing, I might be a master now. And how often have I kidnapped someone for you, hm? I’ve taken Moody if you forgot about that. Some rich kid is hardly a challenge for me.” The Dark Lord knew that, of course. And, truly, who was more dangerous to kidnap than Moody had been? The _fabled_ Death Eater hunter… “Let me.”

“It’s pretty unlike you to ask for my permission, Bartemius. If I said no, you’d do it anyway. So go. But I expect you to come back tomorrow morning at the latest.” He knew it was silly. If something happened to his Death Eater, he’d have no way of helping him, anyway. He could hardly plead the Weasleys to find him, bloodied and half dead. But he needed the comfort.

“Will I get a reward if I make it earlier than that? Like… a cake?”

“You have an elf - you hardly need me to cook for you,” the orphan squinted at him. Yes, he was able to cook. Even without magic. But he surely wouldn’t let himself be abused for housekeeping.

The other pouted, as he summoned his Death Eater robes onto his body in one, swift motion. “It’s about the gesture, not the efficiency. Think about it.” The other tapped his head, or rather the mask and hood.

“I will _not_ cook. If you want someone to cook, ask Harry. He might even slap you for it - that would surely help you reconsider the idea,” he became huffy. Neither of them were bloody housewives. But the other one only came closer, leaning down to kiss him, make him shut up perhaps.

After a brief peck, the other mumbled “But you’d make such a pretty housewife. Ever thought about putting on _only_ an apron?” He wanted to kill the other. “No, you don’t. Hm… Maybe Harry will never come back? Then you’d be a Squib forever. Surely, reading all day will grow boring and one of us has to actually work. And without him, I’d have no ‘ _outlet for my sexual frustration’_ anymore. Maybe we’d grow close, _marry_ \- then you’d be my little housewife. Wouldn’t that delight you? No more dangers, only domestic life…”

“If you want a kitchen murder, yes, please do marry me,” he threatened the other, but his former apprentice only chuckled and pressed their lips together once more.

“You know I wanted to; you shouldn’t plant such ideas in my head by saying ‘ _yes’_.” The delusional man replied and Tom felt a tongue begging for entrance. He denied the request, which earned him more teasing “And now I have the money and no annoying father to prevent me buying rings.”

“I _am_ married.”

“And? We’re above the law, my huffy Lord,” he joked around, but before Tom could hit him, he disapparated. Bartemius was truly disturbing in his behavior.

* * *

“What, no cake ready yet? You have very little trust in my abilities,” Tom woke up to Barty calling him out and touching his shoulder gently. There was a bit of blood on his bone-white mask.

To say he had had a heart attack put it lightly. He wasn’t used to being awoken that rudely. So he flinched slightly as if burned by the other’s touch. When his shoulder was reassuringly patted, though, he realized he needn’t worry all that much. The most worries he had, were of different nature “I… do hope that isn’t your blood…”

Regretfully, the other took a step back, already showcasing he was limping slightly. “Might be mine, might be his. Either way, it’s fine. I’ll heal it when I shower. Bastard just had some tricks up his sleeves. Now he’s tied up in the cellar, though.”

“In _this_ cellar?” Tom sat up, not all that comforted by the thought for many reasons.

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I had Winky put all the research away and everything. And I took his wand. He won’t be making any trouble. I’ll just have to uh… heal, oblivate, and put an imperius on him. Just to make it more believable for the others. But that’ll come later. First: shower. And _cake_. You owe me big time.” Without another word, his Death Eater vanished into the general direction of the bathroom, leaving a sleepy, confused Dark Lord behind.

‘ _He doesn’t seriously expect me to bake a cake, does he? I don’t owe him anything anyway, he’s my servant. It’s his duty…’_ He grumpily thought and looked outside the window. It couldn’t be later than 6 am. But now he couldn’t fall asleep anyway, so he stood up and begrudgingly dressed in his usual robes. Feeling witty, he called Winky. Right away, she appeared before him so he requested “Would you make a cake for your master? For some reason, he requests one.”

But she looked at him with wide eyes, stammering “M-Master Crouch forbid Winky to aid master Riddle in that!”

‘ _Great, just great. So this is, how far I’ve fallen?’_ Gritting his teeth, he hissed “Did he now? Well, I suppose he gets no cake at all then.” No, he’d not give him the satisfaction. What kind of savage wanted to eat cake for breakfast anyway? He wished he could say he was surprised by Barty’s request. He was not. He had always eaten weird stuff - he supposed that stemmed from the privilege of being born rich.

“But- But it’s master Crouch’s birthday, master Riddle!” She seemed truly injured and horrified by his threat.

‘ _Oh.’_ Eyeing her funnily, he whispered “... is it… truly?”

“Yes! It’s master Crouch’s 36th birthday! Please, please don’t make him said, master Riddle!” She begged him and tugged at the hem of his robes. Were he evil, he might kick her away like Lucious.

‘ _It can’t be… or can it? Is the elf lying to me?’_ He didn’t trust her at first, but he tried to think back to the past. But, yes, he had partaken in such festivities in August before. Now, he truly felt conflicted about the whole ordeal.

Normally, he’d not care for the runt’s birthday. He barely cared for anyone’s birthday; even Harry’s had a negative touch to it. But there were certain things, which needed to be considered. One, his husband always cared a great deal about celebrating everyone’s birthday - except this year, where he had been weird about his own. But if Tom ruined his older brother’s birthday out of pettiness, certainly, his husband would be very disappointed in him. Two, Barty had proved his worth twice now in killing himself and kidnapping some poor wizard. Three, his own bad consciousness forced him to not ruin the other’s happy mood. And Winky’s at that. And four, Tom didn’t want to risk not being given food today by his host.

Feeling abused, Tom sighed unhappily “At least show me the kitchen and give me supplies…” She lit up right away, squealing happily like some kind of puppy. Already, he was cursing himself profusely.

What was this to Crouch? A game of power to see, just how much he could get him to do? As he stood in the kitchen - which he hadn’t done for the last 50 to 40 years - he felt certain it was. This was a display of power. Just so Barty could brag about it to Harry or whoever cared to believe him. He’d say ‘ _Oh, I’ve made the Dark Lord cook for me!’_ Then everyone would gasp in awe and Barty would feel good about himself like some child. He had _always_ tried to undermine his authority. Even in the beginning…

 

 

 

> _“You know, I think most of the people here are only present to gain your favor or something similar,” a witty 16-year-old sat next to him on a green couch, far too close for comfort._
> 
> _But Tom didn’t mind - perhaps the boy wasn’t extremely versed in common decency. Somehow, it was refreshing. “Why do you think that?” It was a rhetorical question, meant to test the younger one. Of course, no one was here of their own accord. This wasn’t the kind of party most young wizards attended. This was a place to make connections._
> 
> _“Well, none of them seem to be having much fun, do they? They look like they anticipate their drinks to be poisoned or a spell to fly their way. And they always look your way to see, whether you’re seeing them be… I don’t know; social, I guess. Prestigious. I don’t know.” Tom enjoyed his observant nature, even though the younger one would still need to learn quite a bit._
> 
> _“They do want me to see them have connections, my friend. Surely you know connections are useful,”_ _Riddle helped him come to the right conclusions, before drinking firewhisky._
> 
> _The teenager meanwhile threw at him “If those connections get you to boring parties like these, they can’t be very good, can they? My Lord, you should improve your party-planning.”_
> 
> _He almost suffocated on his drink if he hadn’t forced himself to swallow it and the coughs. Nevertheless, the young mage must have noticed, because he chuckled. “That’s… an interesting point of view.” He could only reply. Had he just insulted his parties? He had never met an aspiring Death Eater quite like this one. Not even marked, but he behaved like he had been there for ages. Casually sitting next to him as if he were a friend, not a greedy pureblood seeking some kind of advantage. “But aren’t you at the party, too? Are your connections equally as bad then?” He tested him further but, as of late, it was really more a fun game. He had long since decided he’d mark him. The teen was too fascinating to not be his._
> 
> _The brown-haired Hufflepuff grinned at him “Hm… They might be equally as bad but I utilize them better than them. After all, I don’t see them sitting by your side and talking to you.”_
> 
> _“That is true, indeed.”_
> 
> _“I think they’re scared of you. Maybe you should work on your image?” Rebellious eyes faced him gleefully, happy to tease him._
> 
> _Smirking upon that, he questioned, “And you aren’t scared of me?”_
> 
> _“No, I think you’re pretty nice. Why would I be scared of someone nice? Or are you only friendly to me?” There was an unspoken, very dangerous thought jumping around in the pureblood’s head._
> 
> _Undecided, whether he should kindle that idea, he neutrally voiced “Perhaps.”_
> 
>  

 

As he tested the dough, he again questioned his sanity. Some days, he thought someone had replaced the Barty, he knew. Some imposter, maybe the contrary of a Boggart. Other days, he could still see the similarities. It hurt to try and fit the pieces together.

Tom had decided on making a chocolate cake - for some unholy reason, he knew that Barty might just make his threat to propose to him true because of it. He liked chocolate most, he knew. Spitefully, he thought he should have made something different because of that.

But in the end, he couldn’t stand seeing the other unhappy or hurt.

 

 

 

 

> _“M-My Lord?” A voice called from behind the door, accompanying a timid knock. Why would anyone disturb him after they had had such a long meeting? But he knew that voice well and he had the inkling of an idea, what was going on. He called Bartemius into the study and in stepped someone, who should look far more ecstatic. Was he having second thoughts? Already? He had thought higher of him._
> 
> _“What is it?” He softly uttered, despite knowing he should be harsher for the intrusion of his privacy close to midnight. Tom didn’t play favorites and doing so was dangerous._
> 
> _Barty was dressed in new, black robes, holding a metal-like mask in his hands. He stared at the floor, as he fiddled around with it. “I-I- Can you help me?” Insecurity didn’t suit him well, Tom decided. It elicited unwanted feelings in his Lord, which he had to push down._
> 
> _“With most things, yes. But I have to know your issue for that, don’t I?” The answer should have been no._
> 
> _The other’s mouth twitched into half a smile, noticing his friendly tone. His new Death Eater came closer to where he sat in front of a desk and put his mask on it. He had not yet gotten the hang of how to vanish it, Tom knew. But he did not mind. “I have questions about- about_ this _.” He pulled up his left sleeve showcasing his new Mark, he had been given a few hours ago._
> 
> _A little scolding, the Dark Lord reminded “And you didn’t think to ask your siblings first? You know I am a busy man.”_
> 
> _A flash of hurt could be seen in the other’s eyes, who let his arm fall to his side again quickly. “I-I did ask! But they- they didn’t answer! They just laughed… Like I am some kind of stupid child, like I should already know...”_
> 
> _“Hm, even Lucious? He seemed fond of you before.”_
> 
> _Barty’s cheeks turned a bright red, as he voiced “No, but… I- With their masks, I couldn’t-”_
> 
> _“There’s no shame in not recognizing them. They are quite a few to memorize for one evening,” he comforted him. He had many Death Eaters - sometimes he couldn’t connect all the new masks, either. Trusting that the other was not blatantly lying, he sighed and gently took his left arm, swiping over the Dark Mark. Barty made some weird noise at that, which almost had him chuckle. “What do you want to know?” Barty asked him everything from putting Glamours on the Mark to calling for help with it. He explained it all with great patience, despite seeing the boy had had already known half of it. “Will that be everything, dear?” The endearing term slipped out before he could prevent it. But Barty was so very easy to be loved and held dear._
> 
> _“Y-Yes, but can I-”_
> 
> _“You shouldn’t stay,” he said and the reasons were so many._
> 
> _Disappointed, the younger one whined “My Lord…”_
> 
> _Tom took his left arm and placed a kiss on his Mark, right on the skull, making the other blush but at least look happy again, too. “Please, go.”_

 

 

He wished Crouch Jr were as innocent as back then. Maybe if he had never marked him, he would still be as he was. Although he supposed that was a moot point. Barty had always had a slight darkness to him, had always known, just which buttons to push in a person.  He had always known Tom was not strong enough to send him away, say _‘no’_ to him. And the old Barty had not known how to say ‘ _It’s alright, you don’t have to.’_ He had always pushed for more.

Putting the finished product in the oven, he tried not to start thinking about the way they were. He failed.

 

 

 

> _“Do you love me?” His apprentice demanded to be told, quite playful in his execution._
> 
> _“What a redundant question to ask when you’re in my bed,” Tom shook his head as he stroked through brown, far too soft hair. He knew this was wrong. Barty was far too young, far too inexperienced. But he couldn’t bring himself to push him away. “Of course, I love you.”_
> 
> _“Good,” his Death Eater replied, hugging his middle for dear life. “Because, otherwise, I’d be angry now. I love you, too.” He had to snort at his plain, pragmatic answer. “And we’re… I mean- You don’t do this with every of your Death Eaters, right?”_
> 
> _“No, I don’t.”_
> 
> _“Because… you never kiss me with o-others around- I thought-”_
> 
> _He kissed his temple, not wanting him to go on. “This… relationship shouldn’t be one for the world to see, dear. You’re too young and my apprentice,” he pointed out, but he knew the other wouldn’t understand. Barty was a possessive creature, he knew. Already, there was a slight pout on his face._
> 
> _“And next year?”_
> 
> _“It’s rash, even then. Being with me is dangerous and you’re not fit to deal with those dangers quite yet, I’m afraid. And why make this public, hm? I’m faithful, you don’t have to show everyone your claim on me. If at all, it would be superfluous. Your siblings deem me celibate at best, which I enjoy. I don’t need them to woo me,” Tom gave his best to talk some sense into the younger one. He pushed some of his hair aside, before kissing his forehead._
> 
> _But his charge scrunched up his face. “And what if I’m in school again?”_
> 
> _“What about it, hm?”_
> 
> _“You’ll… miss me, right?” Insecure eyes stared up at him and the grip on his middle tightened._
> 
> _He nodded “I always miss you.” And it was the truth. Even after only having known Crouch for a few weeks, he had missed his presence greatly when he had been in school. Without doubt, it would become worse now with them having been intimate._
> 
> _‘You’re the only one, though…’ His apprentice bitterly thought, he heard. Sadly enough, he could say nothing against it. “I’m glad when school’s over. I just want to be with you. I don’t- I don’t want to go home…” Pressing closer, his object of affection whined “Why do you always send me back? Why can’t I stay here?”_
> 
> _“You are of no use like that. You must interact with the Light - I don’t need a mindless killing machine. I need a spy.”  The other became flustered at his rational answer, pushing him away slightly._
> 
> _“But- Why do I need to do anything? Can’t I just… be with you?” Dangerous ideas, indeed._
> 
> _“Wasted potential, dear. We may consider that once the war is over. When it is over, you can be, whatever you want for me. But now I need my little bird, my spy.”_
> 
> _He was stared at like he had broken his trust. “I’m… just a Death Eater to you? After everything-”_
> 
> _“It was your choice to become my servant. It is your duty. But that doesn’t rule out being my lover,” he tried to not let his helplessness show and it apparently worked. The other’s features softened a little when he added “You will always be my favorite. Don’t tell the others, however.”_
> 
>  

 

How beautifully he had been lying back then. Telling the teenager he was loved. Indeed, he had held Barty very dear. Like a founder’s heirloom, he had deemed him precious. A useful thing to impose his will on, to taint. Mindlessly, he stared at the baked good in the oven. It smelled nice enough, he supposed. He was surprised Barty had not invaded the kitchen, yet. Surely, he had sniffed it out already.

He couldn’t hurt Barty again. He couldn’t stand seeing him heartbroken or disappointed anymore. He was very fond of him, maybe more than ever, but he had decided against it. For Barty’s own good.  There were too many wounds, too many lies, too many memories. Tom couldn’t make up for it.

Because, in reality, he was the one, who needed to make things up to the other. Had he handled things differently, had he just pushed the confused teenager away, neither of them would be having these issues now. Maybe they could have gotten together later, like now. Without any old distrust lingering in the air between them.

He had ruined his former apprentice.

 

 

 

 

> _“Pleas-e, please! M-Master- No! I-” The teenager screamed helplessly as he held the Cruciatus. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t stop gripping his wand, couldn’t stop being afraid. The half-dressed Death Eater convulsed on the floor, his hands clawing at anything at all. “Plea-”_
> 
> _Meanwhile, Tom felt himself panicking; cold, horrifying realization washing over him. He wanted to scream at the one, he had loved. He wanted to show him- wanted to tear him to shreds._
> 
> _Barty painted the white marble red, spreading his blood everywhere. Everything was a wound. His arms, his legs, his stomach, back. Blood seeped out of his mouth, as he screamed more. Tom couldn’t even remember, what he had thrown at him before the Cruciatus. It didn’t matter. “Ma-aste-” he kept on begging, blind betrayal in his eyes._
> 
> _He had no right to feel betrayed. Tom felt hot tears flowing down his face- everything hurt. He could feel all the places, he had been touched, had been kissed. They burned, they disgusted him. He wanted the person responsible for it gone. Gone, like all the others._
> 
> _Soon, no more sounds escaped the body at his feet, but he still trembled because of the torture inflicted upon him. Wings of red were painted on the floor, where his arms had spread his blood. Outsides, birds chirped happily as ever, greeting spring despite one of their brethren dying._
> 
> _The Dark Lord heard footsteps rushing to his room, but they barely registered with him. They had been attracted by the screams like moths by light._
> 
> _“My- My Lord- Merlin, what-” Narzissa screamed and broke off. She saw the bloody evidence of his hidden consort. “What-” He said nothing, he could only stand there and clutch at his wand, still cursing the unconscious, dying body. But, before he knew it, she disarmed him despite his silence “Expelliarmus!”_
> 
> _His wand flew somewhere - he wasn’t sure, whether he was thankful to have it gone. He stared on as she rushed to her not-quite-brother’s side, the young witch quickly beginning to chant something to heal the young man. He watched on, and he listened on, but he couldn’t understand a thing anymore._
> 
>  
> 
>  

The Barty, he knew, was dead.

“W-Wait- You _really_ made a-” A bewildered voice saved him from his memories, only to become even more bewildered “-why- why are you crying? Is something- I-It can’t be that bad, right? Even if it tastes like shit, I’ll eat it.”

Tom dared to glance at the other once, but it only made him sob more. Quick as lightning, a set of arms wrapped around him as he leaned against the counter. “I- I’m so s-sorry-” He cried to him, instinctively wrapping his own arms around the other’s neck. He smelled fresh and like Barty, but he still smelled so much _blood_ on him.

“H-Hey, it’s okay! You haven’t even pulled the cake out yet- It can’t be half bad, smelling like that,” he was comforted for the wrong thing, but he did not blame the other.  

“I- I- killed you-” Tom couldn’t stop himself, pressing closer to the very much alive man.

“H-Huh? I’m uh… alive…. Did you poison the cake?” Bartemius questioned him and his sanity, simultaneously rubbing circles into his back.

“W-Without Narzissa-” He felt trapped in his memory, trapped in his past. Not even the living proof in front of him gave him any comfort.

But, finally, his former apprentice seemed to understand his issue and tensed. “Oh no… No, you’re not thinking about that crap, are you?” Barty weakly nosed at his hair, speaking into it “I told you I didn’t blame you. How do you- How can you even think of that while baking a bloody cake? Why does cake trigger thoughts of death in you?”

Gripping at clean, pleasantly soft clothes, Tom could only whisper “I- I don’t know...” The way Barty worded it, he felt stupid for it. For some reason, Barty tried to remove himself from him, so he begged, “Please, don’t-”

“I won’t leave you, I just wanted to look at you,” the other cooed at him, which prompted ruby eyes to reluctantly look at him, so he wouldn’t go away. “Can I?” The other asked to not only see his surface thoughts, he wanted to probe deeper. A hand left his waist to wipe away still forming tears, waiting for an okay. The Slytherin nodded, needing him to take care of his thoughts for him. Tom felt his mind being invaded only by a weird dizziness, not able to tell much more as a helpless Squib. He saw some memories gently pulled to the front of his mind, only to be equally as gently pushed back. He almost wanted to close his eyes and put his head on the other’s chest, but that would prevent his work. “Why were you thinking that, hm? Why remember stuff like that? It only hurts and helps none.” Deeming his work finished, Tom did as he had wished to do before. “You were right, I’m not that person anymore. But you didn’t kill him. That, the Dementors and father’s imperiatus did for you.”

“You shouldn’t have been caught, either. You could have been sentenced to the kiss, were you more unlucky,” he tiredly replied but at least had calmed himself again.

“If you’re implying that’s your fault, you’re wrong. I tortured the Longbottoms too much and messed up the plans, it’s not your fault. And I could have been brighter- I should have hidden like the others. Instead, I was too prideful. You had nothing to do with it,” his Hufflepuff assured him of his innocence and Tom thought, he finally got Harry’s fascination with the other.

Wordlessly, he looked up at the Death Eater and kissed him longingly, pressing their lips together in silent need. Barty gladly provided, moving against him and making a little, pleased sound. For the first time in ages, Tom reluctantly opened his mouth, inviting a skilled tongue to enter. It did quickly enough but with a sense of carefulness, not too bold and demanding yet. Breathing out happily, the orphan played with the tongue a little only to let it dominate him in the end. The younger male grunted at that, pressing more into him and pushing Tom more into the counter.

Tom expected him to go further, push him on top of it, grind into him, but none of that happened. Instead, the slight abuse of his mouth was soon stopped and hot breath ghosted against his face, as the other one rested his head against his.

“I don’t want to treat you like Harry right now,” Barty whispered, “Sorry to break the deal for the time being.” Barty didn’t deem him ready yet and Tom was indeed rather thankful for it. The Death Eater chuckled in delight - having heard - and kissed his cheek again “Don’t misinterpret. I just don’t wanna ruin the cake. If I ravage you now, my Manor might burn down.”

“Very foresightful of you,” he sardonically retorted. He’d be truly sad if it did burn down, after all. But they still kissed for a while longer, no further intent behind it. At least for Barty. Right now, Tom could have declared his undying, eternal love for him. He was glad he had his eyes closed.

Suddenly, he felt weird. Was it getting colder? Someone had interrupted their little make-out session, “Good morning.”

Tom felt heat rise to his cheeks incredibly fast as he tried to wriggle free from the other man. It wasn’t like this was not okay, but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of his husband seeing this. Also, the surroundings getting colder was _never_ good with Harry around. “Harry, _love_ ….” He awkwardly greeted him, fighting with the other to be let go.

But his husband giggled at his actions, not angry like anticipated, despite the windows and other surfaces frosting up steadily “You could have gone on, you know? I saw, anyway.” Tom wasn’t entirely sure, how he meant that. “Happy birthday, Barty.”

The man spoken to lightened up as he pulled the other in his arms closer again “Thanks, sunshine. You’re right on time, too! Tom made-”

“-A cake, I know,” he cryptically chirped before praising his husband for the action “Never thought you actually would. I’m very glad you two manage so well without me.” Harry’s face was perfectly peaceful, no hidden agenda in sight.

Something was off, the Slytherin concluded. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, but something was wrong with his mate. He seemed so calm - like Barty had said he had been. And, when he thought more closely about it, he couldn’t feel a strong bond to him. Worried, he backed away from his Death Eater, feeling something, which a child might describe as _stranger-danger._ “You’re not Harry.” Barty seemed sad that the other left him, but let him have his space.

When grey eyes regarded him a little too friendly and he backed away even more, Barty finally seemed to realize something being off, too. He narrowed his brows, “Harry, is Death still inside of you?” The possibility frightened Tom more than it should have. But the signs were just too obvious, weren’t they?

Not-Harry’s eyes softened considerably, as he sheepishly looked at them. “He is. I can’t detach him from myself, yet. Separating our souls is a delicate process. He has to undo each connection by hand.”

Letting Barty take the lead, for now, the other regarded him in distrust and did not make an attempt to get closer. No, he’d stay right, where he was. The Hufflepuff voiced their shared doubt “If you aren’t finished yet, why are you here?” It didn’t seem to make much sense.

“Multiple reasons. One is your birthday, I couldn’t miss that, of course. I tried to get you a present, however, it did not work out. Your mother’s soul was not very compliant. She did reject being taken from the afterlife. I’m sorry. But she said she liked me - Harry,” the not-quite-human creepily explained.

“Uh… that’s uh- good to hear? I hope you didn’t terrorize her,” Barty had a very funny, almost disapproving look on his face. He tried to lean on a counter but quickly withdrew his hand at the coldness of it.

“No, I’d never. I asked her very politely, of course. I think Death’s presence in me scared her away, though,” the Master of Death seemed rather untouched by that or his lover’s expression. He simply went on “But at least I have a gift for you, master.”

He squinted his eyes, “For me?” No, this had to be a trap.

“Yes, for you. An apology from me _and_ Death if you so will. I think I finally got him to understand, what remorse feels like. That kind of helped,” before Tom could question his mysterious rambling, the other held his hand up and produced a familiar book alongside a little box into his hand. “Barty, you were right. It _was_ a paradox we could merge, but I couldn’t work with the Horcruxes. Death wanted to eliminate Tom, so he lied. Here,” he took some steps toward his spouse, who counted on Barty’s protection in case this really was dangerous, and pushed the items into his hands.

He felt it. Tom could feel himself in those items. He now saw the book wasn’t that at all; it was his _diary_. In awe, he also opened the small box-

“You know, I noticed I never gave you a ring. Obviously, I couldn’t allow the Horcrux to reside in my - er, Death’s - Hallow anymore. So I took a substitute. It might not be that efficient to carry around your Horcrux, but well… I thought it was nice.” His mate seemed rather bashful upon the presents being inspected, the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

His master opened the little, blue box as he was expectantly watched. Although he knew better than to trust a merged Harry, he felt his heart slightly melt, when he was faced with a perfect replica of his family’s ring. “Thank you,” he said since he did not know how to properly express his thanks upon having two parts of his very _soul_ returned.

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t need words to know, how you feel,” his merged husband frightened him slightly with those words, even then. “I take no offense, master. Like this, I’m almost omniscient. I know that must seem scary. Also, if you hugged me to show gratitude, you might die.”

“Om...niscient- Love, what-”

“Don’t worry about it, I told you. How could Death properly function without a little bit of omniscience? Also, I was the only one who could touch Death as his Master. Since he’s completely _in_ me right now, touching me is not advisable. Pay it no mind. But I have one more thing. The person in your cellar; Barty, I placed a more secure ward on him. He would have murdered you tonight, otherwise. He’s not as helpless as you think. And while I did enjoy having you in my - Death’s - realm, I thought Tom might find the experience jarring and wouldn’t feel safe here anymore, either.”

The Death Eater forced himself to laugh at that, “ Haha, but that was only an assumption, right? N-Not a prediction-”

“It was a prophecy, dear. I chose to reject it. _For you_. I deemed the trouble too tedious to revive you a second time,” Harry grinned at them, but it also - like so many things - seemed a little wrong. It seemed like the smile of a shark - deadly. “I’m sorry I’m disturbing you, master.”

Tom wanted to reassure his mate it was alright, then again, it wasn’t. He did not trust this version of Harry. ‘ _This isn’t my husband. This is something else; no need to feel bad for it.’_ This had killed Barty and him almost, too. So, despite the thoughtful gifts, he couldn’t bring himself to get used to the one, he normally loved to pieces, being in this kitchen with them.

“Again, it’s alright. You can’t truly hurt my feelings; I barely have any right now!” He laughed at his own _joke_ , which only he seemed to fully comprehend. Tom was seriously concerned his lover would decide to stay like this if he was that delighted by that. “No, I don’t plan on being like this. _For now_ . I will stay detached until we all decide to pass on. Once I’m truly dead, I can’t really prevent the merge from happening anymore. But it is alright. It’s not half bad. I simply have to _purge_ Death of his personality, so it won’t be a problem for me anymore.”

Staring at him like some kind of madman, Tom only nodded “I hope you know, what you’re doing.” _And talking about_.

Grey eyes twinkled, as he slyly reminded “Omniscience, master, is a true gift. I have to admit, it will be hard to give it up again. And the other powers, hm… But it’s too dangerous to be half-merged with Death. While he is truly caring for me, he draws very interesting conclusions from it. No, I either completely merge or detach.”

“Sunshine, what if someone steals your Hallows, though? Or fights you over them? The tale clearly-”

“No, the tale is false. It’s not as easy as disarming or killing me, brother. Death chooses his master,” the other told them, but clearly seemed a little defensive about the whole topic. “I am. While I’d gladly give someone else the responsibility, I can’t. I was chosen because I don’t plan on abusing my power. Say, what would a more evil soul do? Potentially, I could eradicate earth. It would take very long, but I could. Additionally, my nature is to be possessive - Death’s is, really.”

For support, Tom leaned against Barty’s side - he needed the warmth of another human right now. “That’s very ah… fortunate for us, then.” Harry creeped him out. And it didn’t help the other was continuously correcting himself, pointing out he wasn’t Death.

Almost timidly, the Master of Death folded his hands and looked down upon the frozen floor. “I’ll best go now, perhaps. I should be detached in a week - if nothing majorly goes wrong. RIght on time for school, how lucky I am…” The sarcasm was almost heartwrenching, Tom thought.

Barty, always the heartwarming dog, cooed “You could stay if you wanted. Eat some cake!”

“I have no need for such nutrition,” the youngest cocked his head as if he had never eaten before. “Also, I frighten my husband currently. And I don’t like that.” He cast a weak, solemn smile at his husband, sighing “Barty, please care for him as well as you did before.” Apparently feeling like some trickster demi-god, he also proposed “Maybe take him out to Madam Puddifoot’s. Oh, or something Muggle… After all, someone seems to be reviving his inner Muggle right now.”

“I’m not reviving anything!” It was now Tom, who became defensive, and his mate laughed, vanishing soundlessly. Once Tom was certain they were alone again, he turned toward the other “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I, Tom. But we can hardly do anything about it… except push him through the arc again. And I kinda don’t think we’ll be able to with his uh… all-knowingness,” the other shrugged helplessly, which was hardly comforting. He seemed to notice that, too, so he softly said “Harry seemed in control of it, though. And- hell, he’s brought you your Horcruxes. I’m sure sunshine knows, what he’s doing. He’s a good guy.”

He also knew that. With mixed feelings, he regarded the diary in his hands and the ring on his finger. He knew they were _real_ , this wasn’t some trick. Although he truly had expected something more… _magical_ to happen, when they came back. Stroking over the black leather, he hummed “I know he is good - better than us, at least. But someone so good can fall so deep, too… A-And… we’re speaking of a ah- potential eternity of him being like that when we’re dead…”

A warm hand squeezed his shoulder and the owner of it agreed “Yes, he has the potential to become very, very dark… We saw. But you’re worrying too much. We don’t even know for sure he’ll stay like that. Maybe he’d become himself again if he had more time” The other kissed his cheek again.

Riddle noticed him staring at his Horcrux in fascination, eyeing it like some relic. He supposed, to him, it must have been quite interesting. He didn’t think the other had ever as much as _seen_ one of his Horcruxes before the Ministry. Blinking, he innocently pointed out “You can touch it, it won’t mind.”

“I-It?”

“My Horcrux. You’re staring at it, are you not?” He smirked at the other purposefully playing dumb. It was a tactic his Death Eater was very fond of. However, he still seemed reluctant and did not reach out for it.

He again asked “Are you uh… sure?”

“You touch Harry all the time, he’s a Horcrux, as well,” the dark mage had to cock his head at his reluctance. Helping the other out, he offered him the book and pushed it into his hands. Immediately, he felt the soul-piece having distanced itself. Tense, the younger mage turned it around in his hands before opening it, only to pout. “What, you didn’t think it would be that easy, did you? Either way, there’d be nothing of value to find. Simply the ramblings of a teenager on a killing spree.” Although he supposed the words and stories in it hadn’t been written into it by him anyway. He had never been that dumb - as if he’d write a guide to make his life hell. No, the Horcrux had done it itself.

“How do I see stuff, though? Surely, there is a spell…” Barty took out his wand in wonder, tapping it against a random page.

“No spell. You have to write in it, it will answer. I’ll have to warn you, however. The Horcrux is frozen in time; he isn’t… _me_.” He found the dilemma hard to explain.

Crouch grunted and offered the object back to him, as he drawled “Well, I don’t suppose you’ll let me have a private chat with him anyway.” But there was more, Tom saw even without Legilimency. Was Barty _jealous_ ? He could only guess, why. Harry had had one of his Horcruxes in his possession for quite a while. He had never given his former apprentice the same privilege. Or _trust_. He hadn’t even told him.

Feeling brave, he declined to take the Horcrux back. “Keep it. It might be happier with you; at least you don’t know all its stories already. Also, I don’t want three of my Horcruxes in one place.” It was only logical to give Barty that. He couldn’t hide or protect it himself, either way.

“J-Just… like that?” Ludicrous, he was stared at and he nodded again in response. “But uh… isn’t that kinda dangerous for you?”

“I believe that’s the point, Bartemius. This is like a school project, where children raise tadpoles to frogs. I want you to keep it safe for me,” he cryptically explained his reasoning, but it earned him a slightly confused stare.

“I-Is that… a thing, Muggles do in school?” The wizard regarded him in a mixture of horror and fascination.

Touching his side and reassuringly rubbing over it for a moment, Tom explained “Yes, sometimes. It’s a test of… responsibility. Trust, perhaps. You are right, my Horcrux _is_ very vulnerable in your hands. Which, in turn, makes me vulnerable, too, as you know.”

“... Are you comparing yourself to a frog?” The other laughed at him in joy.

“The simile isn’t of importance. Keep my soul save, you moron,” he became irritated and stared at the oven, instead of his servant. “Treat it well, and you might be rewarded.” A warm body wrapped around him in response, hugging his back. This time, he truly didn’t mind. Relaxing into his hold and leaning back, he grumbled, “ _You_ are frustrating.”

“That’s what you get for speaking about frogs and Muggle stuff out of nowhere. I don’t know anything about Muggle schools… I never even _talked_ to a Muggle… Uh, well, outside of… _duty_.” He was outright scolded by the less powerful mage as warm, gentle hands kneaded into his stomach. Barty didn’t even care to ask, what kind of reward he was speaking about - he could probably guess.

“Harry and I will have to show you, then. Sometime.” He knew his husband had wanted to visit his god-awful relatives for a while now. Maybe it would prove worthwhile to take oblivious Barty with them.

“Please, have mercy on a poor pureblood, my Lord,” Barty seemed to fear the worst upon his words, knowing they could not mean anything good for him. “ **_I love you_ **.”

“Speaking in my tongue won’t save you from learning.” He shook his head. Luckily, he and Harry could still converse via their link in private. Although he doubted Barty would ever master Parseltongue. RIght now, he was only repeating stuff, he supposed.

His cheek was peppered with little kisses, while the other hummed into his ear “Hm, might it buy me your love, though?” He smiled against his cheek “Maybe hissing makes you all hot and bothered? Harry always hisses around…”

The Dark Lord had to snort, covering his face slightly. “It _might_.”

“It might what? Buy your love or make you _naughty_?”

“Find out,” he mischievously replied, but produced a displeased, strangled sound when the other bucked into him from behind. “Not _now_ , however.”

“Hm, too bad… And there I thought I could use you as a plate for the cake… That would make it even _tastier_ ,” was playfully suggested, while his ear was nibbled at briefly. “But I guess I can’t have my cake _on you_ and eat it, too.”

“You’re awful.”

“I aim to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you <3


	12. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is back, but unhappy. His mates try to help him as best as they can.

**Chapter 12**

**Okay**

* * *

* * *

 

He felt so awfully… _limited_. Harry blankly stared at his hands, standing before the arch in the Death Chamber. Somehow, this body felt like it was multiple sizes too small for him and his soul. The air - the matter - around him felt suffocating, too, and as did the faint background noise of humans in the Ministry. Was this how it had always felt? He didn’t seem to be able to remember.

As his lungs filled with air and his heart pulsed, he felt ready to puke his guts out. Was this _normal_? Was it supposed to feel like that? He didn’t like things moving within him, entering him. Ideally, there was void within him. Perfect nothingness, only energy.

The Master of Death almost wanted to jump right back through the portal, beckon Death to join him in this meat-suit again. But he knew that wasn’t the plan, he knew his mates would react negatively.

Had he _known_ \- Had he just known it would feel like this, however, he would have lied. This human, _alive_ existence was so… _inferior_.

He almost felt stupid for ever having declined to merge. _Now_ , he did understand what Death had tried to tell him. Merging was better. It had the potential to, at least. He felt incomplete, missing something.

But he couldn’t do that now. Trying to force himself to keep on breathing, to allow _matter_ to enter him, he leaned against the stone archway. ‘ _It’ll be alright. It has to be. I promised them to not go back, while they are alive. I- I have to do it for them. I just- I have to learn, how to be alive again. That’s not that hard- I did it before!’_ The necromancer tried desperately to comfort himself. He was fully reformed, fully alive. It felt horrible.

He could have lived with just giving up most of his powers but being _alive_? It felt disgusting, contrary to his nature. But there had been no other way. He couldn’t have stayed undead without some of Death’s soul in him. But that was not wise. Either, Harry was in full control of him through a merge or complete separation, or he’d be susceptible to his influence.

The Master of Death knew his servant had only meant well. In his own sick, twisted way, he had meant to help him. Death wasn’t human, he had no morals, no understanding of real love. He was a shell, waiting to be filled with such understanding. And he’d do everything to attain it; even abuse loopholes and brainwash his own Master.

He couldn’t blame him. At least part of the stuff _they_ had carried out together had been of his own idea, of his own doing. Death had said so. They were partners in crime now even though he’d not flaunt around that little fact. They were far worse anyway.

Thinking he had his airways under control now, he apparated to Crouch Manor. The Master of Death was still above the magical laws in some aspects, but it paled in comparison to what he had been able to do before. What he could have done. Already, he felt it cost him far more energy to apparate through wards, which were meant to prevent it. He could still do it, but not endlessly like before, he concluded. Even his freedom was limited now?

Reappearing in the host’s library, he had to smile because his heart melted immediately. Maybe, his torment was worth it just for this? Seeing his mates content and well cared for might just be worth the trouble, worth the craving. ‘ _But weren’t they doing well without me anyway?’_

Sadly, his apparition wasn’t soundless anymore, either, so his mates were alerted to his presence. Tom, who was sitting on the other one’s lap and reading something, lifted his head in alarm only to have it collide with Barty’s chin. Both of them made displeased, hurt noises, Tom holding his head with a contorted face.

“I’m back,” he redundantly told them, before also comforting them right away “And separated. And _alive_ , sadly. I’m just… Harry.” He hoped that was clear-cut enough. Still, his husband seemed slightly distrustful, eyeing him, up and down, down and up.. Harry already worried about the lingering distrust in them growing to something bigger. “Master, I really am. You’re not even a Squib anymore.” That should be proof enough. Although he couldn’t really blame his vulnerable mate for fearing him. When the apprentice had been weak, he, too, had feared his master at points. He guessed it was comparable.

Testing that information, Tom took out his wand and cast a simple _Lumos_. A ball of light was summoned, although weak. He probably still had to heal a little. Slightly hesitant, he managed to free himself from the other Death Eater. But only, because Barty also jumped up and wanted to hug him. Not before the older one caught his arm and pulled him back, however, requesting “And ah- we can touch you again?”

“Yes, you won’t die. I’m just a normal human… right now,” he tried to seem happy about that little fact but knew his true emotions on the matter had been visible. Emotions were difficult. But at least he was hugged by his primary mate, who hid his face in his neck and grumbled something incoherent about him smelling off, while Barty simply hugged both of them at once. It was hard to not push them away. Too much body heat, too much noise, too much _alive_ . He shuddered, letting those sensations wash over him like ice-cold rain. ‘ _I’ll get over it, I have to. This is okay, this is okay, this is okay-’_ He chanted within his mind, only for his husband to stare at him funnily. “Don’t look at me like that, being human is hard.” Didn’t they have any mercy on him? Apparently not, because Barty squeezed them harder.

“It… really isn’t, love,” the other cocked his head, before trying to step away. He immediately collided with Barty, who automatically wrapped his arms around him again. Harry enjoyed that mostly. Not completely, though. “But… perhaps it would be best to talk about it nevertheless.”

“Yes, maybe,” he voiced and apparated the _very_ short distance to the couch to sit down, already scolding himself “...I have to stop doing that.” He couldn’t apparate around all day like in Limbo. He didn’t have that much magic at his disposal anymore, neither did he want to become fat. Sitting down on the white furniture, he mildly cringed. Was normal furniture always that uncomfy? To his surprise, his mates did not sit on each side of him, no, Barty sat next to him and separated him from his husband. Not able to read his mind on a whim anymore, he could only guess this was either possessiveness or protectiveness. Honestly, he would prefer the former.

Matter-of-factly, his husband, who now steadily leaned against his servant’s side for support and let him stroke over the back of his hand, stated, “You don’t enjoy being alive. And hugged.” He was grateful the other was this blunt today, not using his fancier way of addressing things..

The Gryffindor felt slightly jealous Barty was not touching him. But he supposed he had no right to request such a thing right now. Also, he didn’t even _like_ to be touched. So he let it slide and answered “Not really, no. It’s not your fault, though. It’s just weird being alive again, breathing, feeling. And having stuff around me. Purgatory and the afterlife are empty, there is only energy floating around if you will. I have to grow accustomed to it again.” Those bodies were obstructing his view of their innermost beings, their souls. He didn’t like them much.

Despite declining to shower him with affections like usually, Barty chuckled and taunted him “Sad you’re no demi-god anymore?”

“I wasn’t-” He wanted to say, but he supposed it had been just that. Defeated, he admitted, “A little, perhaps. The powers, the peace… it’s just gone. I didn’t think to be alive would be this…” He wanted to say inferior but deemed it unintelligent, “... overwhelming. Just give me time, I’ll manage.” At least he hoped that. “I have to.” He couldn’t live on with this kind of longing. It burned, begged him to go home, where he belonged. He felt like an alien, a virus. He shouldn’t have been here in Life’s realm.

“Brother, you should call yourself lucky you’re just… you again. Why the long face? Didn’t you say you’d merge in death anyway?” His sibling finally touched him, squeezing his thigh reassuringly. “I like you more like this.” But did Barty even know, how much he had changed? Would he still love him? After all, he had done… Although he supposed they didn’t even know half of it.

Mixed feelings upon being touched, he whined “Yes, I know- I just… I don’t feel so… good. Being merged was easier.” That only earned him increasingly worried glances by the two, which prompted him to shut up about it. If talking about it made them unhappy, he’d stop. He preferred silence anyway. “It’s fine.” He told them. He didn’t want to destroy their good mood. He had seen them being so very content and close, while he had been in Limbo. He feared to ruin it for them. He drew his legs closer to himself, hugging them. He couldn’t even feel his own soul anymore.

The Slytherin tried his very best to sound optimistic for some reason. He uncomfortably smiled, “I’m sure it’ll be alright in a few days. And if not… we’ll find a way to help you out.” Why did it sound like a death threat? And why did that thought please him? Harry knew it was wrong.

“I hope you’re right, master,” the Master of Death stared at his knees.

His fox requested “Don’t you _know_ , though? I thought you were omniscient or something.” Were the new human’s mood a little better, he might have chuckled at his naive question, even though he knew it to be cruel.

“Not completely. I knew most of the past and present. The future was harder though. I only knew prophecies and stuff, which was very close to happening. And I can’t really… remember most of it now. It was too much.” Human brains were limited, after all. Death had no brain, he had no problems remembering everything. “Also, I was kind of focused on observing you two, anyway.” Most of the time, he had watched them at day, only stopping when they had gone to sleep. He feared he would go right back to observing now, too.

* * *

 

And he did. He couldn’t fall asleep that night, despite his body needing it desperately. While his two lovers regarded him in anxiety again upon him declining to go with them to the bedroom, he shrugged “Don’t worry about it. I just have to grow used to it.” They seemed to believe him, retreating for the time being. He felt the slightest hint of magic curling around him as they did, secretly trying to call him back to them.

He, too, retreated and ignored it. When he was sure they wouldn’t hear him anymore - although he knew it to be futile anyway, Tom could sniff him out - he disapparated back to the Ministry and into the Death Chamber. Nobody ever went there, he knew. Most wizards were creeped out by the portal and the voices, some heard. But it also was the closest he could get to Purgatory without dying.

Walking up to the portal, he sat down in front of it and listened to them talking. It was mostly nonsense or begs to come home, but he found it comforting. Here, in this realm, he felt like a snake in a zoo. Powerless, stripped of his might, imprisoned in a too small habitat. Leaning his head against the cool stone of the gateway to Limbo, he wished he weren’t warmer than the stone again. Now, everything seemed so cold in comparison to him.

At one point, he must have nodded off, his living body collecting its payment for its mediocre, unwanted service. In the morning - at least he thought it was morning, there were no clocks or windows - he awoke with a slight headache and everything hurt because he had slept in an odd position. In Limbo, nothing had hurt him. Now the pain hit him tenfold, making him feel disoriented.

But it all vanished quickly when cold hands landed on his aching shoulders and stayed there. Why did he have to make it even harder for Harry? “Oh, master… I told you it wasn’t a good idea!” Everything froze; he, the floor, the voices.

“If you tell me I should come home, I’ll push you through the portal,” he warned him, not up to discuss this _again_ . They must have had this conversation a hundred times already; then again, time in Purgatory barely mattered. “We talked about this, Death. I will come home in some time, stop being greedy,” he sighed - Death couldn’t _forget_. He had no justification to whine about it like a child. “A hundred years are nothing to you. If at all, I should stay away longer for what you did.” Were he a crueler master, he might have decided on that.

The arms embraced him now, a head placed on his own like he was a comfy piece of furniture. “I know, sweet master, I know. And I will never, ever do it again! But… it’s hard to not miss you when we were so very close…” The head on his own shifted and cold lips pressed to his neck for a moment, only detaching to say, “I’m sorry I broke your human.” Right away, they were back on him, kissing a trail along his throat. Harry had to suppress a shudder, but he knew to tell him to stop was pointless. He’d still do it.

“You’re only sorry because I’m angry at you. Also, I don’t want to talk about it,” he ignored his words, however. He knew how the other perceived souls: they were playthings to him. Death was no ungrateful child - he simply didn’t know, how to deal with them at points. His Master hadn’t taught him that, yet, in their limited time. Harry barely got to make him understand, what morals were. And how brainwashing him was not okay. He doubted he _truly_ understood, even now.

“But you came to me,” he was confronted with his own actions, which he did not like. Shouldn’t his servant aim to please him? More kisses followed as an apology, it seemed, before he was slightly nibbled at like some piece of candy.

“I…” he wanted to deny that, but couldn’t without lying. He didn’t crave Death as a person, he craved, what they were _together_. So Harry simply retorted, “Doesn’t mean I want to talk to you, though.” He drew shapes in the dust below him, ancient things only he and his other half could understand.

Cooing almost cruelly, the frame giggled, “I know you like me, master. Like that human mate of yours, you just can’t admit it!” A hand grasped Harry’s wrist, making him change up some symbols to correct them. “ _There_.” The other hummed, but he did not care for those shapes, either way. His neck was pleasantly nuzzled by cold nothingness and his wrist rubbed over. Of all the wrists he possessed, it had to be the left one. Death almost viciously lifted his sleeve, wrapping his ice-cold hand around his Dark Mark. It didn’t burn, but it was hurtful all the same; he was touched like he was owned by Death, not his husband. “Hm… Are you sure you don’t want-”

“Y-Yes, very sure. And I’d like you far better if you’d shut up about it,” he grunted, blackmailing the other as he pulled his hand away finally. He could play this game of emotional extortion, too. Only, it was far harder to play with an emotionless being, who only felt one thing, really.

After a while of silence, the talkative servant of his happily babbled on, ignoring his discomfort, “-I saw you being sad about the humans not touching you much, though-”

“I said _no_. Can’t you be silent on your own accord? Or do I have to o-order you around every minute of your life?” he snapped moderately and the other seemed to duck behind him. He knew Death wasn’t scared of him, however. He did not like his soft spots being abused. And he couldn’t believe a being born of silence would unnerve him so.

“Can I kiss-”

“No.”

“Master, please, just a-”

 _“No_.”

Hands started to firmly massage his back, trying to make him feel guilty about denying the other. He didn’t. But he still welcomed the touch and the faint magic tingling on his skin. “I’d be good; you know I can do it a-”

“One more word and I kill you,” the awkward threat slipped out of him before he could stop it. A delighted giggle emitted behind him and a head leaned against his back.

Laughing his ass off like this was some kind insider to them, he wheezed, “Master, you’re so ridiculous as a human-” Harry remained silent as he blushed in shame. “-At least something good comes of this, I guess!” His middle was squeezed and securely held, trapped in his servant’s hold, who’s mood could always change drastically and completely at any given time. Meek, clingy, joyful, bold- There was nothing, which could last. Because Death was only choosing random mood sets, which he found interesting to imitate right now. He felt none of it. Only the need to possess his master truly existed. “Oh, master… Don’t judge me for it- Anyone would want to have you-”

“I order you to be silent,” said Master was finally fed up with his slave and could _feel_ his pout as he stopped talking. Still, his presence alone was sweet torture enough.

* * *

“Love, why were you in the Ministry the last few nights…?” A cautious, tense voice requested an answer of him a few days and nights later. Harry had not managed to even _enter_ the bedroom those last nights, always using the first chance to slip away. He just couldn’t lie down in a bed with them, pretend nothing was wrong. He didn’t deserve to sleep next to them. But, apparently, his husband must have noticed his nightly disappearances at one point, locating him via the Mark, and confronting him. Why couldn’t they ever simply accept the status quo? Why couldn’t they simply _give up_? Like he had?

Unsurprisingly, Barty appeared behind Tom, too, who was standing in the doorway to the dining room. Harry had gone there to start his day in the same fashion as always; trying to force himself to eat, without gagging too much. Now, he could only blankly stare on as his brother pushed past his Slytherin. He took on a protective stance slightly in front of Tom. When the Master of Death did not reply right away, Barty also added “Sunshine, we don’t wanna accuse you of anything… but it _is_ a little weird, don’t you think?” How could Barty face him like he was still someone, he held dear? Even in the face of betrayal or odd behavior, he still gave him the benefit of the doubt. He never judged.

He knew that going to the Ministry was off for many reasons. He had no business there, none at all. Reading them for signs of danger and finding none, he answered them, “I… I went to the Death Chamber because I found it comforting. It’s easier to fall asleep there.”

Their faces fell the tiniest bit, Barty’s more so than his primary mate’s. The latter slowly pointed out “...On the stone floor…?” They had spent some time there, they knew how cold and unforgiving it was. But it was even colder to him.

“Yes.” He knew it must have sounded ridiculous. Why would he prefer the stone floor instead of a warm bed with his two mates in it? Then again, he slept leaned against Death, who was considerably soft. Cold like a grave, but also as peaceful as one. At least, until he started talking. And he simply couldn’t stand being that close to the two humans as of late. Harry saw neither of them believed his curt answer, so he admitted to his crimes, “I meet Death there. He helps me rest. I have to rest now, master. But I can’t on my own.” Would that suffice? He somehow doubted it. Maybe it would be good to disappoint them. If he did, he’d have a reason to sleep far away from them.

Now, even the master-actor lost his neutral appearance and Harry averted his eyes. “Why _him_? After all he-”

“I miss him, master,” he told him. Now, there was no sense in hiding it anyway. His husband was already upset with him, why not make him livid and get it over with? “And he can’t make any trouble like this.” With no influence over him, Death was mostly powerless against him. Although he did not let his guard down around him regardless.

Walking past his older servant, Tom paced closer to him, the stress clearly visible in how un-fluidly he walked. “We didn’t go through all of- all of _this_ to have you go back to him! Harry, he’s not safe to be around- Haven’t you learned anything of the past months?”

The accusing tone hurt him more than it should. A little flustered, the Death Eater hissed, “I think I know my servant better than you-”

“Clearly, you don’t. Have you ever looked at yourself? How much you changed? He did all of that! Since you died in spring, you haven’t been yourself- And don’t bloody tell me you’re happy like this!” His husband interrupted him and he _could_ see his point. He had changed, he supposed.

Even then, ”He’s not to blame. I’m just overwhelmed with dying, being undead, dying again, and coming out alive. Show me one person, who’d take no issue in that…” What bad had Death really done? He had pushed him to act out thoughts, he already had. But wasn’t he himself the evil one for having them in the first place? _Death_ hadn’t told him to enact revenge on his mates. Neither had he told him to come back to the Death Chamber. He had done it on his own accord. He was to blame. “He did nothing wrong, master. He simply… _pushed_ me into a direction, he thought was best for me. And hadn’t I thought the same, I could have stopped him.”

“You don’t even see it, do you?” He was cryptically asked by the Dark Lord, who’s arms hung limply at his sides. His husband ignored his last point, ”You don’t even seem him influencing you in any way? Even now?”

Offended, Harry laughed bitterly at being called naive, “Of course, I saw him influencing me. He helped me find the stuff in the cellar and everything, after all-”

“That’s not, what I meant, love,” his orphan husband blankly told him, some resemblance of horror on his face. “You don’t see him influencing you on the smaller scale of things?” As a wordless reply, Harry shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “Harry, he’s abusing you emotionally. He blatantly lied to you about _so_ many things. And ever since I noticed you talking to someone, you constantly questioned, whether we both loved you. You still question that. And you still think you’re doing us a favor by disappearing all the time, don’t you? And you also don’t speak up about your issues half of the time - if we weren’t asking you about it, we’d not even know you need help with sleeping. He’s trying to make you think he’s the only one who can help you, who loves you - Harry, you said so yourself: He _cannot_ love. And we know how his ‘help’ turns out. He’s turning you against us!” The dark-haired male helplessly pointed out things to him, which he didn’t agree to.

This was all his fault- he was making his mates upset again. Had he only stayed in Purgatory, they’d be fine. They’d still be smiling, laughing, cuddling. So he clarified his stance on the matter, so they’d see the _truth_ , “I had every right to question that! Yes, I did change- to the negative, too! And I’m not blind, I saw that. It was only logical of me to ask, whether you still wanted me around like that. And now it’s even more valid! You two are always together, you always do stuff and hug- I can’t _stand_ being touched right now. Being gone would do you a favor, yes! I watched you 24/7 those last weeks and you were much happier with me gone!” How were _they_ this blind?

Crouch Jr couldn’t bear keeping silent at that, stepping closer to him as well. “Sunshine, _no_! We were happy because we grew a bit closer, sure, but we missed you! If you truly watched, you’d have seen feeling shitty half the time!”

He wasn’t convinced by that. He _had_ watched. He had been mentioned a few times, but that had been it. The two were the delusional ones - they didn’t even know, just what he had done to them. So he growled, “I _killed_ you! And not, because that little voice in my head told me to- Death wanted me to stop because it was too risky. I _killed_ you because I wanted to hurt you. Truly, honestly hurt you.” He snarled, “Because I wanted to make you pay. And I wanted to drag you to Limbo with me, so you wouldn’t be able to run away from me again. I was jealous! Death had no hand in that.” Surely, that must have convinced them now.

But no such thing happened; no one freaked out and tried to hurt him for his horrid deeds, despite him having thought that to happen. Instead, his older mate stepped closer and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. He knew that was no gesture of affection. Tom only wanted to prevent him from disapparating. If he tried to and Tom fought against it, he’d tear his master to pieces with it.

Ruby eyes regarded him with too much sorrow, too much pity, while the other man crossed his arms and had a similar expression on his face behind him. The orphan uneasily, but softly _explained,_ “Harry, he’s gaslighting you. Do you even know, what that is?” Harry’s silence was answer enough to the other. “It’s basically what I described before. He’s trying to make you dependent on him. Trying to make you think you’re worthless and we don’t love you, so he can have you for himself. Please, love, you have to see it.”

No, he did not. Instead, he snapped “ _You’re_ one to talk about stuff like that.” His mate was calling him insane, wasn’t he? “I- I know what you’re trying to do. You just don’t want me to feel bad about being a shitty person. You don’t need to protect me-”

The hand on him tightened slightly as if worried he might truly vanish soon. “Harry, you’re not evil. And, yes, I _do_ know what I’m talking about. Seeing, I was on the receiving end of that often enough as a child and teen. Did you think I- I wouldn’t have run away from the orphanage under normal circumstances? I was no idiot child; I’d have surely found a way.” Eyes dark, he hollowly added, “I didn’t _want_ to. Certainly, it isn’t entirely comparable, but close. Every sane person would think you’d get as far away as possible from Death after all of this. But you don’t want to, do you? Because you think he’s only ‘trying to help’ and because he ‘loves you’. He might request you to do certain things, which you don’t like, but it’s not that bad, right? Because he knows you better than you know yourself, and he’s strong and older; surely he knows best, hm? And if he is nice to you once in a while, that makes up for it. Nobody else would understand, nobody else would do as many nice things for you as him. And you can call yourself lucky he doesn't abandon you anyway, because you _suck_.” When Harry only stared at him and shakily breathed out, the other cruelly questioned: “Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Did it? His mind wasn’t sure, whether it agreed.

The hand on his shoulder grew gentler then, stroking along his throat and traveling to his cheek. His master said in sympathy, “I know you’re not an idiot child or naive, either, Harry. But you’re young and inexperienced nevertheless. I’m not blaming you, there is no punishment or scolding to come. I just want you to realize, what he’s doing to you. Regardless of what you might think, you’re _not_ in control of him. He wants you to think him harmless, weak. He isn’t. Just look at the Peverells, love. They thought they were outwitting him, too. Two of three died. The last one didn’t, but lived in near misery.”  Before they ran down his cheek, Tom wiped away his tears. “You might not be merged now, but you might as well be, as long as you continue to see him. Harry, don’t trust anything he says. As long as you’re the Master of Death, you’re in danger.” Harry couldn’t believe this, didn’t want to. But he saw the sense behind it, saw the pieces fit together so well. “Give up the Hallows.”

His eyes widened in helplessness, as Harry whispered, “That- That won’t work! I told you-”

“And he told _you_. He also told you he couldn’t retrieve my Horcruxes. Or that one couldn’t reverse the merge.” His husband slightly smiled at him, trying to not make him cry harder.

“But… I can’t give them someone else!” No, that wouldn’t do. Everyone else might abuse them for far worse. “I- Anyone could just merge with him and-” No, he couldn’t do that. Harry clutched at the other’s robes for answers, he probably couldn’t give. What if someone like Grindelwald got a hold of them? Or Tom? They’d- He didn’t even know, just what atrocities were possible. But he had felt that raw power, knew it to be dangerous beyond any natural thing.

Barty was one to answer luckily, “Then split them up and give them to different people.”

“We settled that wouldn’t undo-”

“Harry,” Tom cocked his head in unfitting amusement, “I told you that, yes. But do I look like a Deathly Hallow expert to you? I only said so, because I believed it to be true at that time. But it makes no sense. I am almost _certain_ Albus had all of the Hallows at one point or another. He had the ring, he had the wand, and you told me your cloak came as a gift. Who’d gift you something like that? Barty and I even discussed the options of simply stealing your Hallows to make you yourself again. But we concluded it wouldn’t work with you halfway merged.” But he became serious again, telling him, “It’s worth a try. Gift them someone, you trust. Stealing maybe won’t work, but gifting is like inheriting: Even the Elder Wand will accept a new owner like that. It has to.” Harry knew that, too. Inherited wands _knew_ they had a new owner and couldn't resist them. “At least _try_. Give them the Weasley boy and the Muggleborn you’re so fond of. Or your godparents.”

‘ _I suppose trying won’t hurt,’_ he concluded. His mind was clouded, but he still thought that idea worth a shot. Wordlessly, he summoned his cloak into his hand. But he didn’t decide to give them his friends or godparents. Instead, he threw the cloak directly at Barty, who made a confused noise at that and startled as if hit by a curse.

“S-Sunshine-”

“Take it,” he cut him off and pulled off his ring next. Tom, who had retreated in surprise, was assaulted next. Harry stood up and walked over to him, grasping his right hand with the identical ring, and stealing it swiftly before the other could react.

His master tried to recoil as if burned, horrified by the unwanted gift. “Love, I don’t want it-”

“Too bad,” he only retorted and slipped on the ring with the special stone in it. “You both proposed the idea, you help me carry it out.” Harry next took the counterfeit ring, the Horcrux, and took it for himself. Yes, this felt much better.

His favorite brother, holding the cloak he had already used once, nervously asked, “-And? Did it work? Do you uh… feel anything?” He seemed reasonably uncertain.

“No, I don’t feel anything, but let me try-” he bit his lip and held up his hand for a summon. ‘ _Oh, please! Don’t let it work, just don’t-’_

He thought of Tom’s locket Horcrux in Gringotts, wanting it to appear- “Master, no- No, please don’t!” he was interrupted, however, by a certain copy of Tom. Death had appeared right next to him and wanted to reach out for his wrist, but stopped himself in the last moment. “What have you done! You can’t just- Master, why?” Trying to summon it finally, Harry found his hand empty to his relief. The being seemed almost heartbroken, but he soon spun on his heel in murderous fury, facing the two others, “Give him my Hallows back!” They hadn’t thought about that, had they? The only thing missing was for Death to angrily stomp his feet on the floor.

While Tom froze in mild horror, Barty selflessly positioned himself in front of him again. “No, I think we won’t. He gifted them to us, you know? You don’t just take gifts back.” Bartemius let on no sign of fear and held _his_ new Hallow, almost flaunting it around.

But he did stumble away slightly when an enraged creature apparated toward him soundlessly, trying his best to frighten the Death Eater. “I care none for human customs- Give it back or pay the consequences.”

“Sorry, pal, I don’t think so,” the middle-aged wizard shrugged, enraging the owner of the Hallows further. “You don’t demand gifts back.” Almost possessively, the Professor hugged the cloak and pointed out, “And if I don’t gift it to him, it’s not his. He’s not your master anymore.” Harry almost expected his fellow servant to stuck his tongue out, but he didn’t. He wished he had the capacity to laugh right now.

To aid him, he hissed, “Also, I won’t accept the Hallows back, either way.” But it had been wrong to say something, it seemed, because that made Death turn toward him again. Before he knew it, the other was in his face, almost touching. He knew the touch would kill him, so he didn’t move.

“ _Master_ … Why are you doing that to me, hm? Haven’t I cared for you well?” Somehow, the other was far scarier when he was angry at him, Harry concluded shakily. “I gave you all, you wanted, lovely master. Everything. I’ve done more for you than they ever did. They went behind your back more than once, defied you; they think you’re an idiot child. Master, they tricked you and stripped you of your powers. It’s unjust and unnatural. Do you truly wish to be mortal?” Grey eyes regarded him in something akin to sorrow - maybe self-pity - as he went on, “You could be far better. _We_ could be far better.”

“I-I like being mortal,” was the young, dark mage’s only reply to that. He was scared the other might touch him, kill him. What would he do then? If he stayed all alone in his realm- maybe Death would trap him somewhere secluded for all eternity?

“Didn’t I give you all I could? I even let you go and play for a while longer,” he cooed as if that had been a great service. When that sort of persuasion gave him no results at all, he emitted some low growl-like sound. He then leaned in closer to his ear, whispering huskily, “...Or do you want me to tell them, what you did? I’m sure they’d be delighted to hear, sweet master.”

As if bitten, the young Death Eater retreated and stared at the copy of his mate, who smiled at him in an eery way. His reaction of sheer horror compelled Barty to intervene, calling the ghost out, “It’s not like you can do anything. You can’t kill us. And as Harry said, he won’t take the Hallows back. Just go back and do your thing, leave us alone.” But even the more experienced Death Eater seemed unsure about what was happening between Death and Harry currently, eyeing that whole business warily.

Death paid him no mind, simply ignoring the human. He again drew closer, humming, “Say you want me back and everything’s okay, lovely. We can forget all about it. Nobody needs to know…” Harry didn’t know, what to do. He couldn’t have his mates know, he simply couldn’t! But he couldn’t be the Master of Death, either. “If you don’t… well, then you’ll be all alone. No me, no mates… just alone, master. I’d like to spare you that existence. Maybe your relatives will take you back, hm? In that little cupboard? After all, you might end up a Squib if your mate’s too heartbroken… What if they hit you again?” Harry wanted to cry, wanted to push the one silently threatening him away. But he couldn’t.

Worried for his husband, Tom managed to overcome his stupor. “Leave him alone, will you? Or are you dense?” His apprentice knew he was only trying to taunt the being, so he’d leave Harry alone.

“Not long and I’ll have to kiss and tell, master,” Harry was warned again and shivered at the cold of the other. “And you know your bonds aren’t _that_ strong, master… But I’m willing to look past all of this once…”

Again, Barty interrupted, “Sunshine, whatever he’s telling you, it’s bullshit.” His intuition probably told him no good could come of Death whispering stuff to him. He was probably right.

“Because I love you more than them, I’ll take you back this once… But you know they won’t do the same, beloved master…” His servant cooed at him again, “We can forget about all of this… Come on, decide…”

“Sunshine, don’t listen to him-” Barty warned again. “We talked about it, he’s manipulative.” When neither of the pair reacted still, he promised, “You know we love you, but he doesn’t. He can’t love. Come here, Harry. He won’t kill you, come.” But even the older Death Eater seemed nervous as he tried to beckon his lover to come to him and get away from his manipulative ‘friend’.

“Decide, now.” Death became less friendly, less lovey-dovey with him. His demand was straight forward, a warning, really. “You’ll be abandoned by everyone.”

Finally, Harry snapped. Taking a leap backward, he faced his mates and wailed “He’s- I- We slept with each other!” He shouted pretty directly, immediately tearing up. Looking away from his mates and at the floor, he sobbed, “I-In Purgatory- I couldn’t-” It was too much. He had broken his mates’ trusts, sullied their relationship. But in Limbo, nothing had seemingly mattered, everything had been void of emotion. He had only felt Death’s need to _possess_ and his mates had united against him, sending him away! He had needed an outlet, anything to hold onto. And Death had provided. “I-I’m sorry-” He mindlessly sobbed, not paying attention to his surroundings anymore. It was all too much for him. He just wanted his servant from hell to vanish, to leave him alone! And he wanted to be able to enjoy being with his mates again without having to feel guilty or unwanted all the time. “Please-” he kept on crying and had no clue, what he was even begging for. Absolution? His surroundings seemed to melt away, only he remained and the feeling of having done wrong. It felt like dying in a mixture of blood and mud all over again.

A set of familiar arms embraced him and he was pressed into soft, familiar robes. Right away, he clutched at them, afraid his husband might leave him again. Touching someone alive felt repelling, but he needed the comfort. His husband seemed to murmur something at him, but he couldn’t understand it in his heartbreak. He simply pressed closer and hid in his master’s robes, who in response tightened his grip on him protectively- or was it? Was this a goodbye? Harry felt himself panicking and his mate must have noticed it through the bond because he kissed his head reassuringly and stroked over his back. The minutes to follow were a blurred mess, and despite being tightly held by the other, he felt like he’d be pushed away and screamed at any second now. How couldn’t they? He had betrayed them, had broken their trust, and pretended nothing was wrong.

When he regained some of his senses again, he was seated on his husband’s lap - or Barty’s? He didn’t know, he didn’t care. All he cared for was that he hadn’t been pushed away yet, hadn’t been abandoned like Death had foretold. Someone was behind or next to him, too, patting him everywhere, he could reach.

It only made him sob harder, hide more in expensive robes. He must have been still sitting on Tom. His hair was stroked through, but the hands were shaky. The hands on his back - Barty’s - were calmer, steadier. Trying to calm his shaking husband down, he reached out through their bond and stroked along his back, too - this was all his fault, wasn’t it? He had frightened his husband. Or was this something else? He couldn’t quite discern those emotions, his own too prominent right now.

“Only you would worry about me when you’re the hurt one, love,” his husband responded nevertheless, having observed his thoughts -  they weren’t as shielded anymore - and peppered the top of his head with kisses. Still, his voice sounded shaky, as if something horrible had happened, something, which could even shake a master of the dark arts. Had something happened? Harry didn’t know. “It’s alright, you’re okay now…” Tom told him but didn’t really sound so sure about that.

* * *

Had he fallen asleep? Despite the living beings being around?

Harry’s eyes fluttered open in confusion but, yes, he was still in someone’s arms. He felt the dried tears on his own cheeks, wiping them away before looking up at his husband. Only that he wasn’t sitting on his husband.

“Wakey-wakey, sunshine,” cooed his other mate at him, quite dorky in the execution. How Barty managed to be so positive all the time eluded him greatly.

But upon his husband missing, he felt himself being wide awake, “-W-Where is Tom? Is he- What happened?” He couldn’t believe this - couldn’t believe himself. For good measure, he checked Bartemius’ eyes, but they weren’t grey to his relief.

His cheek was stroked over shortly, as his lover shushed him, “Woah, slow down, will you? Tom’s fine. And uh… Death’s gone.” Clearly, Harry wanted more of an explanation than that. Barty kissed his cheek once, going on, “That fucker bloody _vanished_ after you uh… told us. Seemed pretty confused about us not murdering you or something, I don’t know. Just pulled a face and bloody vanished! The nerve!”

Despite the situation being rather serious, Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the other. Still, he also voiced, “And Tom?” Light came in through the windows, so it wasn’t that late yet. He couldn’t have gone to bed or anything, right? Guilt crushed down on Harry, ‘ _Perhaps he doesn’t want to see me anymore…’_

His boyfriend did not help him much in appeasing that guilt. “Yeah, well… He’s not uh… He doesn’t feel all that well. So he went upstairs to - I don’t know - meditate or some stuff like that.” Immediately, Harry tried to wriggle free and go after his husband, only for the stronger man to pull him down again and trap him. “No, sunshine… That’s uh not a good idea. He’s not really… feeling well. So maybe it would be best if _we_ spoke first and then you storm up.”

The Gryffindor did not like the sound of that, not at all. Ashamed, he looked at his hands in his lap. They were shaking. He didn’t feel like he deserved Barty being this _okay_ with everything. Why wasn’t he being screamed at already? At least that would be something, he’d be able to understand. “I’m sorry…” he repeated. He knew nothing could make this right again. He deserved no sympathy.

“Oh, baby brother… so young and innocent. No need to apologize to me, I don’t blame you for fucking a carbon copy, demi-god version of Tom. You’re young, you’ve got to live life to its fullest, yadda yadda yadda- You _killed_ me, I don’t think much could shock me anymore,” his lover shrugged and placed a kiss on his nose. He pretended like this was no big deal, like he had only spilled some milk this morning at breakfast.

“Are you n-nuts?” The younger Death Eater deadpanned, not about to believe Barty was being serious. On second thought, he voiced “...Are you drunk?” But he smelled no alcohol.

“Neither, brother,” Crouch Jr smiled sheepishly as he admitted to his point of view on the matter, “Harry, I’m not a bloody hypocrite. Do you know how often I cheated on people? A few too many times. Not on you both, but still. Also…” the older man shifted around, so he could sit a bit more comfortably, “I know you were kind of confused. Still are, most likely. And we already settled everything concerning that _demon_. You’re a victim if anything.”

“That’s… it? You just d-don’t care?” The necromancer stared at his lover like he was a genuine mad-man. He didn’t still deem him that innocent after everything, did he? “A-And I willingly-”

A finger was placed over his lips and a sympathetic look was cast his way. “Don’t mistake this for apathy or me not caring, sunshine. I simply… I know what it is like to be with older men and not everyone’s as flowery and chivalrously as Tom. Also, I don’t suppose you _threw_ yourself at him; he probably talked you into it. After all, I know and trust you,” his older brother stroked along his cheekbone, heavily breathing out, “If anything, I’m worried for you. And I learned I have to protect you better from creepy, old men. I should have waited up for you in hell.”

“Just like that…”

“Just like that, baby brother. I’m not willing to throw our relationship away because you fucked a Tom-clone and I’m petty. You fucked up, we’ll get over it. Do you know how often I gave hookers some Polyjuice to look like Tom?”

“E-Er…”

He was grinned at humorously, “ _Way_ too many times for it to be healthy. Mentally _and_ bodily. We all make mistakes, that’s why we’re on the bloody Dark Side, sunshine. We’re not saints, we all knew that before getting together. Hell, I raped and drugged Tom. Tom and I both slept with you - and each other - despite our ages.  And all of us tried to kill each other at some point- _really_ kill each other, not just figuratively. Tom made a bloody _Horcrux_ out of you and tried to kill you as an infant. Your one-time infidelity is barely the worst we did to each other. Everything’s relative, brother.”

Deadpanning, Harry stated, “We’re horrible.”

“That we are. But at least we’re fucked-up together, right? I know it will hurt for a while, maybe months. But don’t think you’re some kind of monster because of it. Our relationship is stronger than this,” his mate nuzzled his cheek, before kissing him for a second - the first kiss in ages. “Now, Tom…” The Gryffindor’s heart made a very frightened jump upon the conversation changing its topic. “He uh… He didn’t exactly take this well, as you might be able to guess.”

“I-I…” Harry stammered, again on the verge of tears. He always hurt his husband, didn’t he?

“Hey, no crying before I even start explaining!” Barty scolded him with a smile, kissing his cheekbone for good measure. More serious and less easy-going, the Hufflepuff went on, “I don’t think he’s mad about you doing it with Death, either. I think he’s mad about not having protected you from it… Y-You know more than I, what he went through as a kid. I mean, he said he went through something s-similar… uh… I suppose he’s more angry at himself than anyone else. I mean, he was bloody shaking like he saw the ghost of his mom or something. Totally out of it. Had to convince him really hard he could leave you with me to calm down himself. Like… he had this thousand-yard-stare, just clutching at you and not letting go. I never- well… I did see him like that, but-” Barty took in a somewhat shaky breath, fingers digging into the other briefly, “-well, I was almost… d-dead afterward.”

To calm him down again - Harry didn’t stand Barty being this squeamish - he kissed his cheek briefly, gaining him a smile.

“So… if you go up there to talk to him, be careful. And pay in mind we both aren’t angry at you; we just can’t be. I mean… what you did today was proof enough you are on our side. I’m proud of you, sunshine,” his fox cooed at him lovingly and his heart swelled with emotion, blushing at the other’s words. “You gave up power… it’s just unimaginable, what you could have done with it. And you resisted him, too. I love you, Harry. Don’t you ever think I don’t love you to pieces, brother,” Barty encased his face and placed a firm, almost over-done kiss on his lips.

Joyfully returning it for a moment, Harry soon felt a bit of dread return to his heart. This would be hard. Letting go of the other, he whispered, “Thank you…” After another, equally as brief kiss, he shakily climbed out of the other’s lap. Right away, he missed the touch - he was glad he felt that way again.

Biting his lower lip, he made his way to the entrance hall and upstairs, unintentionally sneaking toward the bedroom, where his bond led him to. He was scared of his mate’s mental state. He seemed to always push his husband to worse and worse mental health. Even if he would be forgiven for what he had done, he’d not forgive himself for that reason. Not, that he forgave himself for sleeping with Death anyway. He hadn’t felt anything at the time but hurt and possessiveness. Still, his conscience should have prevented it. He could still feel his touch, the kisses; he had willingly given in to being taken by the other shortly before returning to this realm. He felt like he could never let his mates touch him again like that - how could he fathom to let them be sullied indirectly? Already, he felt his eyes burning again.

But it was too late, he was already in front of the bedroom and only had to step in. His mate had probably felt him, anyway. Timidly pushing the door open as if walking in to be butchered, he observed his surroundings. His husband sat on the bed’s middle, his hair messed up and eyes puffy, only wearing a black shirt and his trousers - the robes had been ditched; not a good sign. Riddle nervously swallowed upon seeing him, and his movements seemed erratic, just like the magic convulsing around them. But at least they shared it again, at least there was no foreign magic infesting it anymore. It was _their_ magic, not separate anymore. Only a slight hint of Barty in it.

“Tom…” The currently not-so-brave Gryffindor brokenly said as he forced himself to come closer to the bed. To his surprise, his bond-mate reached his arms out, begging him to come to him wordlessly. Not needing any words, Harry climbed to him onto the bed, immediately crushed in an embrace. “I’m-”

“It’s okay,” his spouse interrupted him and made them fall over, hugging his smaller body. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you- just- are you feeling well? I ah mean- not scared-” His lover seemed to have a very hard time articulating his concerns, as he pressed him closer to his body. Tom was low-key shaking again and a sense of horror still came Harry’s way in waves. “Is- Is this too much?” He then lightened his hold on him, backing away a bit to look at his face for signs of fear or otherwise negative emotions.

On his own, the Death Eater shifted closer again quite to the other’s relief and let himself be crushed again, so much so he had trouble breathing. “I-I’m… feeling okay. It could be worse.” He was simply grateful his mates weren’t pushing him away, abandoning him. He wanted nothing more.

His master lightly caressed his back, trying to coax a deeper truth out of him, “Are you certain?” Of course, he had listened in on his thoughts. At least those, Harry had no managed to shield off.

He didn’t know, what to say. He didn’t even know, what he felt.

Weak, the orphan voiced “You know I’d be the last person to judge. So, please…” His black locks were nosed at, trying to help him along.

“I… I don’t know,” Harry helplessly replied. For the most part, he had tried to ignore his cheating. It had worked as long as Death hadn’t egged him on, trying to get into his pants again. “I’m just… angry at myself. A-And I don’t know, how you both can forgive me just like that.”

Featherlike fingers traced over his cheek and temple, as the other dark wizard comforted him, “Oh, love… Like Bartemius already told you, we’ve done far, far worse… And y-you’re the victim.” His mentor seemed dead-set on that fact, unwilling to budge there. “I... left you alone. I’m-”

“Don’t say it,” Harry stopped him. No, he’d not allow his spouse to take the blame for any of this. A little calmer through the need to help his husband, he clarified, “You couldn’t have done anything. What would you have done? Kill yourself to pay me a visit? A-Also… I’m not the victim. I wanted-”

“No, _no_ \- You did not want to, love. If I know one thing about you, I know you’d never hurt us.” Again, the orphan was unwilling to change his mind and perception of him.

“But-”

“No. Trust someone, who’s been through it- You didn’t,” his spouse made him shut up, shivering around him. “You might think you did, but no.” He added and kissed his forehead like he was something sacred, something holy. Something, which needed protecting. “It… It might become clearer when you’re away from his influence. I… didn’t understand at first, either. It’s okay.”

The Death Eater did not agree, still. But he didn’t want to stress his troubled mate further right now, so he didn’t speak up again. He simply concluded, “Maybe it will…”

“Just- You can talk to me,” his bond-mate offered himself meekly. But Harry thought that wasn’t a very good idea. His mate was _never_ ready to talk about, what had happened to him. It always ended in him having to relive memories, suffering again. “I relive them each night anyway.”  
“I-It would hurt you regardless-”

“I don’t care,” the other retreated a little to look at his face, seeming quite determined. “I truly, honestly don’t care. It hurts, yes, but seeing you all on your own hurts more. At least _this_ is something I can help you with emotionally.”

The Gryffindor disagreed but felt proud of his Slytherin at the same time.

“And you can ask Barty, too- i-if you aren’t comfortable with me... He… He’s better with things like these, I know,” the other seemed slightly ashamed, staring at his chin instead of looking at his green eyes. ‘ _At least it feels better to talk to him than to myself.’_

“Don’t say that. I-I mean… He can be pretty odd to talk to, too,” Harry pointed out, now comforting his husband. But the other did not seem to understand him, questioning his reply. “Well… I did say I watched you two. He outright scared you, that’s not really er… productive.” He had seen the two talk in their bed, Barty pretending he wanted to rape Tom a second time. “He never was like that with me, though… I- I didn’t like that.” Harry was very sensitive when it came to frightening his husband and hated himself for every time, he did.

For some reason, his mate became amused and even his eyes smiled. Tom giggled, “He did scare me. But it helped. He does have his oddities but somehow he knows, what he is doing.”

“But you told me to be careful around him…”

“I did. I still do. He’s a confused man with a history of violence - either inflicted upon him or done by himself. You’re just lucky enough you very seldom find his soft spots and accidentally press into them. Or _purposefully_. But, nevertheless, he is a good man,” his master warned him about the other again, but also praised him. Sometimes, Harry was also a confused man. He still did not get the kind of relationship, Tom and Barty truly shared. “I don’t either, my serpent.”

Harry pressed his lips together. He had to find an answer for the unspoken question - he’d rather talk about this issue than his own, depressing ones. This was something, normal people might discuss, too. “You love him, I think.” He was only greeted with another smile, although it did waver a little. Something, a test, sprang to mind, however. Having been curious - but never having dared to ask - he inquired, ”Master… are you really unable to cast a Patronus?”

“Hm? Why would you ask something like that?” His master seemed slightly put off by his question, truly irritated.

“Barty said you can’t and that he saw it. But… You know, mine-”

“-Is a fox like his, I know,” Tom frowned, before deciding to tease him, “Well, perhaps you love him more than me. Or I truly don’t have one. What do you think?” The Occlumense hid his mind well, the former Master of Death cursing his decrease in powers.

“I don’t like that question,” he grumpily answered, pouting. But at least his partner chuckled again, happy to have him next to him for harmless torture. “Can’t there be a third option? You have one and it’s a fox, too?”

Gritting his teeth, the other huffed, “I don’t like _that_ question, either.”

“So it is!”

“Who are you to accuse me of such things, hm?” The other rolled away from him and onto his back, stretching out his limbs. “Wouldn’t I have your original Patronus, love? A stag? I saw it, so I’d have it.” It was true, Harry had shown him his Patronus on their first meeting.

But he wasn’t appeased by that answer, instead poking the other’s lean stomach. “You haven’t answered my question!”

“You haven’t answered mine, either!” The other declared while trying to stop his assault. “It’s a draw, then. You won’t answer mine, I won’t answer yours,” the older one shrugged nonchalantly, before grasping his waist and pulling Harry on top of him, hugging his smaller frame. “I think that’s fair.”

Surrendering to being hugged - the discomfort was greatly outweighed by his happiness to be close emotionally - the younger one taunted, “You just don’t want to admit to your feelings for him.”

“If it were only that easy, love… If it were a matter of _‘want’_ I’d have jumped him a week ago. I _can’t_ ,” Tom suddenly became serious, the joyful giggling gone. He considered the worry in the other’s green eyes, before telling him, “Both of us would suffer, neither of us would gain anything. What would we gain if I told him those three words and let him have me?”

“I…” Harry tried to come up with something, which would sound convincing. He didn’t need to convince his husband, he needed to convince his fear and insecurity. “Er… You’d make Barty very happy? And then… You’d be happy because he is? And I’d be happy because you both are?”

His middle was squeezed and he had to blush upon the other’s words, “So simple and pure… That’s my husband I know and love.”

“We could all be husbands-” he blurted out before he could stop himself. But, ever since Barty had said such a thing to Tom, he had not been able to forget it. “T-Theoretically speaking…”

“You want to wed me to Bartemius? I thought the times of arranged, pureblood marriages were long since over, my love,” he was regarded funnily, “And his parents might disagree to him being wed to a half-blooded, dark mage, don’t you think?”

“We’re all orphans, we don’t have to worry about parents,” he grunted in response, tucking his head beneath the other’s. “And we’re adults.”

“You’re always so fun to talk to, when you want to distract me,” was the only retort he got upon that; Harry knew, he had won. His mate shook his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be it for this fanfiction, my dear friends! I know the ending is kind of open and some people don't like that. But I didn't want to dictate, what you think might happen with the three. Whether Barty and Tom can sort everything out and how the three of them are going to live on after all of this. <3
> 
> But don't worry! There will be more! I'm working on a prequel to Tainted or Saved, which also works as a standalone work. It'll focus on how Barty became a Death Eater from his pov. It'll probably end with his imprisonment in Azkaban; just to give you some idea of the time-span. I'm not 100% sure yet, though. That might take a while though until I post anything. I want to finish a few chapters, before putting it online. 
> 
> I'm going to be honest, I'm not entirely happy with this fanfiction right here. I personally think it's worse than the first one. Harry's character arc was basically finished in the last fanfiction, so keeping the story interesting was fairly hard - I don't think I really succeeded, either. I just made him and Tom very whiny and depressed :(  
> I also did not like, how little the three interacted with the outside world. They just talk, and talk, and talk to each other and it's just too much.  
> Then, the middle part of it, before Harry becomes fully undead - I think it's pretty bad and it drags on for too long.  
> All in all, the story was pretty painful to write for me. I rewrote the first chapter 5 times and other 2-3 times, too. I also planned to make another chapter after this, but nothing seemed good enough. I rewrote that 3 times, too. I must have deleted 50.000+ words as of now and it's just too much. 
> 
> I'm not sure, whether writing this fanfic was a mistake or not. I'd say I learned a lot through this and I know some of you liked it! Then again, I also think it bloody pales in comparison to Tainted or Saved plot-wise. It's just... I don't know, boring, I guess. 
> 
> Do you have any more constructive feedback? Any mistakes I didn't catch yet? Anything is fine. Plot-, grammar-, formatting-wise or anything else, which really bugs you about my fanfic. I can only improve myself if you tell me :P (But please don't be too harsh, I'm kind of a crybaby o.o)
> 
> Love you <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I know this fanfic isn't perfect by any means. If you have any constructive criticism, please tell me! It can be about the plot, formatting, grammar - whatever bugs you! I'm still learning and I appreciate every bit of advice I get. Plot-wise, it will be a bit hard to change anything afterward, of course. But I'll take it to heart for my next story if you find anything bad!


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